


The Stilled Tongues of Ostwick

by Ophiel



Series: Post-Trespasser Inquisition [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Tabletop Gaming, Arranged Marriage, Blood and Torture, Cheese, Cults, Epilogue, Eventual Smut, F/M, Jealousy, Magical Realism, Marriage, One True Pairing, Orlesian Balls, Ostwick, Ostwick Circle, Past Torture, Plot Twists, Politics, Psychological Torture, Romance, Smut, The Chantry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-11
Updated: 2015-10-26
Packaged: 2018-04-25 20:36:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 54,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4975639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ophiel/pseuds/Ophiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Evelyn and Cullen are invited to Ostwick to attend the Trevelyan Family's Firefly Ball. There, Cullen discovers the fact that he has to deal with dark Cults, politics, Evelyn's technically-still fiance, a mother-in-law and blood mages.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Meeting the Trevelyans

**Author's Note:**

> I write by night, but I'm actually a teacher by day. As such, I would like to know areas I can improve on in my writing. If you spot anything you like, don't like or errors, do drop me a comment! Constructive feedback is always welcome!

Evelyn hated ship travel. Cullen found that an odd trait about her. The ship tossed and yawed with the rough waters of the Waking Seas. Rigging creaked overhead as the wood of the ship groaned from the waves. He walked from the galley below decks, crossing the ship towards the cabin he shared with Evelyn. A wave caught the side of the ship, sending it bucking in the storm. Cullen couldn’t help but grin as the spray of the waves and the rain struck his face. He had crossed the Waking Seas to Kirkwall and back, but never when it was storming. Part of him knew he was being extremely foolish, but he couldn’t help but relish the powerful swells of the sea. Evelyn did not find it so enjoyable.

 

They had a bed in her cabin, but she hadn't used it in two nights. He reached the door to their cabin just in time to hear Evelyn wretching again. "Andraste’s flaming arsehole," she snapped from within the cabin. Swearing like a sailor. You’d never expect that of the Inquisitor.

 

He opened the cabin door just as Vieri, their accompanying elven servant, stepped out. She carried a bucket. Cullen shut the door behind him, the wind still howling under the door. He wasn't wearing armour. Instead, he wore a well-made but unostentatious tunic, leather vest and breeches. His hair was wet from the rain and tousled by the wind, his clothes water-splotched.

 

"The storm's still blowing," he said helpfully.

 

"I hadn't noticed," Evelyn said, reaching out for her cup of mead to wash her mouth with. She sat at their bolted down dining table with a bucket on her knees. She was pale in the face from seasickness.

 

"You look terrible," he added worriedly. She didn't answer, trying not to vomit up mead. "How did you manage the passage over for the Conclave?" he asked her as he went to rub his hand on her back, easing her nausea.

 

"I was drunk. And it wasn't storming. I hate ships."

 

He reached out to undo the leather thong that kept her hair back. His fingers were gentle as he drew back the loose strands of hair, tying her hair back into a ponytail. She couldn't tie her own hair, but she liked her hair long, so he took it upon himself to help her. It was a small gesture, one he didn’t think much of. And he had always enjoyed braiding Rosalie’s hair when she was young.

 

“I’ll be fine, Cullen,” she reassured him. “This is normal.”

 

“Eat something and I’ll believe you,” he replied, tying the leather thong around her ponytail. She took his hand and squeezed it.

 

“You’re taking to sea travel well,” she changed the subject. She probably wasn’t in the mood to eat.

 

“Yes, well, as long as I’m not wearing my armour, I’m fine,” he said. “It’s quite exciting, actually, being on a boat in the storm.”

 

“I’m glad you’re having fun,” she said sarcastically. Cullen grinned at her as he moved to take off his damp leather vest, his tunic hanging loose from his shoulders. He could feel her eyes on him. She had a way of watching him, her eyes like beacons. It was hard to miss when she was looking at him. He had caught those thoughtful looks in Haven, in Skyhold. And for all that she would try to be composed, when he returned those looks, she would unwind into... someone more human, uncertain, shy. It was a mask of authority that he wore as well. “I’ll be fine, Cullen. You should get some rest,” she said.

 

“I shall. It’s like being rocked on a cradle.”

 

She made a disgusted noise. He went to their chest in the room and drew out a small bag of medicines. “Maybe you should take that tincture Adan made.”

 

“No,” Evelyn said firmly. “I’ll be fine.”

 

Stubborn as always, Cullen noted, setting the bag down on the table. “Then come to bed. Dog is sleeping in the Galley with the cook so we have room for your bucket on the bed.”

 

“Right,” Evelyn said, sounding strangely determined. She stood up and washed her face in their wash basin, walking unsteadily as the ship rocked. Cullen sat on the bed and began to pull off his boots. His sword and shield leaned against the wall beside his side of the bed.

 

Evelyn eventually crawled into bed with him, her face damp and her hair falling in wet tendrils from her ponytail already. She set the bucket beside the bed and snuggled against him when he lay down under the blankets, her arm curled on his chest. His arm was going to fall asleep under her head at this rate. Not that it mattered, he usually freed himself when she was fast asleep.

 

“Are you sleeping with your ponytail?” he asked her suddenly.

 

She laughed, looking at him playfully. “I wondered if you’d notice.”

 

“Take it off.”

 

“Why?”

 

“You’ll damage your hair.”

 

She laughed even more.

 

“I’m serious.” Sometimes he was certain she wound him up to make fun of him. She grinned and reached up to undo the leather thong, her hair falling free over his arm. She set the thong on the barrel that served a her bedside table and snuggled up against him again, her leg entwining with his under the blanket.

 

“Are you excited to meet my family?” she asked. “My mother says this summer’s ball is going to be magnificent - more so than usual. There’s going to be a lot of fireflies.”

 

“How exciting,” he said drily. But it would be nice to dance with Evelyn again, the fireflies would make it all the more, part of him cringed to use the word, romantic.

 

“What’s exciting? The fireflies or meeting my family?”

 

He paused for a fraction of a second. “Both.”

 

Her fingers found their way to his ear lobe, which she twiddle lightly between the knuckles of two fingers. “My mother is nice. I promise. My father too, though he travels a great deal to Tervinter. We have business there. Mother throws the balls and holds the fort at home. Then there’s Eduard and Ehren, my older brothers. And my cousin Albrecht, whom you know.”

 

“Do I?” Cullen asked, his mind lulling on the edge of sleep.

 

“He was trying to harry Inquisition messengers because we denounced him several years ago, remember?” Evelyn reminded him. “You said he was an idiot and dispatched guards with the messengers to shut him up?”

 

“Oh, him. I remember now.”

 

Evelyn paused and lifted her head. Cullen felt her moving to lean on her elbows. “Can you make a promise that you’ll not shout?” she asked.

 

“Why would I shout?” he mummered, his eyes still closed.

 

Evelyn hesitated. “Because Albrecht’s sort of, er, my fiance.”

 

“What?” Cullen’s shout rang out in the storm over the rain and the creaking of the ship. He sat up, seeing the look of guilt on her face as she rose up as well. “Your fiance?!”

 

“We were betrothed when I was seven, Cullen!”

 

“When were you planning on telling me?” he demanded, his cheeks hot from anger at the revelation.

 

“Before you met them, of course,” Evelyn said, her fingers toying with the edge of the blanket.

 

“Oh, Evelyn!” he snapped in exasperation. “You didn’t think this was important to tell me way back before we were married?”

 

“Why?” she asked rebelliously. “I didn’t even think I would be alive to go home let alone have to discuss this. It wouldn’t have changed anything.” She paused and gave him a sidelong glance. “Would it?”

 

“Well, no, but-” Cullen was at a loss for words. He ran his hand over his face, trying to calm down. It was an arranged marriage. It wasn’t so bad. It’s not as if she had feelings for the man. “What was the point of this engagement?”

 

“Land and business, of course,” Evelyn replied. “He’s an Arl, or he will be. I would have been marrying up, as it were.”

 

Marrying up? What did that make him. “And how serious is this engagement?” he asked instead.

 

“Not serious anymore,” Evelyn said. “I’ll break it off when I see him.”

 

“You’ve not even broken it off?” he asked incredulously.

 

“Er, no.” She winced. “But! No one would disapprove! Mother knows I married you already.”

 

“And Albrecht?”

 

Evelyn looked at him guiltily.

 

He sighed in exasperation. “He doesn’t know, does he?”

 

“I do not actually know if he knows so _technically_...”

 

“Are you trying to talk your way out of this?” he snapped.

 

“Is it working?”

 

“No!”

 

“I knew you’d take this the wrong way,” she frowned.

 

“What is the _right_ way of taking this, Evelyn?” he asked.

 

Evelyn bit her lip. “I don’t care about the engagement, Cullen,” she said. “He’s an ass. I love you. I married you, that isn’t changing. I was just… warning you that he… might not be friendly.”

 

“Thank you for the warning,” he growled and lay back down, his arm over his eyes. “Andraste preserve me. Balls and politics and now this.”

 

Evelyn was silent. She took his hand in hers. “I’m sorry, Cullen,” she said in a small voice. “My family is a little difficult. You’re getting the short end of the stick here.”

 

He said nothing. Evelyn knew enough to leave the matter alone. She lay down beside him, her head on her pillow. She curled up with her back to him. Cullen drew a breath and draped his arm over her. “We’ll talk about this in the morning,” he murmured. “I’m still upset with you.”

 

Evelyn turned to face him, her hand caressing his face lovingly. She nodded and cuddled with him. Never go to bed without a show of love, Mia had told them. Cullen would try to abide by that, it was the right thing to do. So Evelyn was already technically engaged, even though they had eloped. He wasn’t looking forward to the balls or the fiance. But the smell of her hair washed over him as she slept at long last. He would just have to deal with it, as he dealt with so many other things before. This time it was nobles he would have to try to make like him to some extent. At least the abominations he would be facing would be better dressed, this time.

 

++++

 

The following morning dawned clear, the sounds of the ship and the waves were calm. Seagulls called overhead. They must be nearing land. Cullen pulled himself out of bed, pinching the bridge of his nose. His clothes hung in disarray on his frame and his hair was tousled, sticking up in all directions.

 

“More bad dreams?” Evelyn asked. She was at the table, the bottle of tincture open beside her. She was already dressed in her undergarments, her tunic and breeches hanging from a peg in the wall next to her finest mage robe made of dragon scale and bone.

 

“Yes,” he said simply. He stood and went to the wash basin. “I see you’ve finally taken your medicine.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Good.” He knew appeasement from her when he saw it.

 

“Breakfast is coming too. The Captain said we’d be arriving at port on schedule in a couple of hours.”

 

“That’s good,” Cullen said, wiping his face.

 

He turned to Evelyn, her stump of an arm resting on the table as the other hand played with the tincture bottle’s cork. Her hair fell in dark waves across one shoulder, her blue eyes looking up at him apologetically. “I wanted to apologise,” she said to Cullen. “I should have been more upfront with you.”

 

He squeezed her hand warmly. To her credit, give her time and she could usually see where he was coming from, even if the words so often failed him. “Who will be meeting us at the harbour?” he asked, taking the cork and stoppering the bottle of tincture.

 

“Eduard, for certain,” she said brightly. “Ehren might be there as well, if he can get away from the palace.” She paused thoughtfully. “I don’t think mother will be there. She doesn’t like dirty places.” She looked up at him. “You could wear your armour.”

 

“Why?”

 

“It would impress her.”

 

“Yes, I meet my mother-in-law for the first time and I’m wearing full armour. We should have brought the horse as well.”

 

“I’m serious. It would impress her. I’ve told her who you are. Um. She thinks- I mean-”

 

“The thinks I’m a country bumpkin from a Ferelden backwater?” he finished for her. She looked crestfallen. “She’s right, you know. I am. But for your sake, I’ll put it on.”

 

“You are not a country bumpkin,” Evelyn sighed, running her hand over her face. “She just puts a great deal of importance on titles. I’d like to remind her that title or not, you command an army that swelled to eighty thousand soldiers over the entire south of Thedas at one time, helped in the defeat of an evil god monster and now command the Divine’s personal honour guard.”

 

“And the armour will say all that?” he asked with a chuckle as he took out his jar of beeswax from their chest and went to the mirror hanging over the wash basin.

 

“I will say all that,” Evelyn said firmly. “They will not look down on you for stupid reasons like title, Cullen.”

 

And this is why I don’t like nobles, Cullen thought to himself as he straightened out his hair with the beeswax. “You know your family best, Evelyn,” he said. “I promise I’ll try not to annoy anyone.” Though he would have to wait and see if this Albrecht would fall under the category of people he wouldn’t annoy. At least, not actively. Cullen realized that he wasn’t above Evelyn’s style of sophistry too. Perhaps she was influencing him.

 

She laughed. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, love,” she grinned at him as she went to get dressed.

 

After breakfast, Evelyn began the pacing, her dragon scale robe flaring around her as the turned in the cabin. She didn’t bring her staff, merely the hilt of her sword at her waist. Her hair was braided up into something akin to Josephine’s. It was Cullen’s work, of course, but they’d long agreed that his ability to braid hair so well would be a secret between them. Evelyn paused, biting her thumbnail. He stepped away from the trunk he was packing and pulled her hand away from her mouth the way he always did. “Stop it,” she grumbled.

 

“Shouldn’t I be the one pacing?”

 

“Why aren’t you?” she demanded.

 

“You’re doing so well for us both. Besides, there’s no point worrying about a battle before you get to it.”

 

She chuckled. “Is that what this is?”

 

“Well, I don’t know what your family is actually like,” Cullen shrugged, his fur shawl rising and falling with his shrug. “I just know that they are noble and that I have to hopefully encourage them not to actively dislike me. But I can mind my manners around nobility.” Usually, he added in the silence of his head. He glanced at her. “You’re worrying overmuch.”

 

“Maker. If _you’re_ saying that, I must be in a terrible state,” she groaned.

 

“What’s really troubling you?” he asked.

 

Evelyn’s expression did not change. “I just want you to enjoy yourself,” she sighed.

 

There was a scratching at the door. Cullen went to let Dog in. The mabari was decked out with red kaddis and armour. Evelyn had received the invitation to the ball at Vintiver among messages forwarded to her from Skyhold. When Cullen agreed to attend, she commandeered almost every messenger bird with instructions for belongings to be brought to Highever, including the requisition for Inquisition mabari armour. Cullen had to admit that Dog looked impressive. The animal padded in, panting in satisfaction.

 

“Enjoyed breakfast?” Cullen grinned at the dog. Dog snorted and lay down, rolling over to rest.

 

Veiri entered the room. The slight blond-haired elf had joined them at Highever, ostensibly as a maid sent my Josephine. Cullen had suspicions about that. Cullen knew of the contingency plans in place for Evelyn’s protection. It was likely that Veiri was an agent.

 

“My lady, my lord,” Veiri curtseyed. “We are docking. I’ve brought crew along to unload your belongings.”

 

Evelyn took a deep breath. “Let’s do this,” she said, sounding as if she were walking out to face an abomination. Though Cullen would have taken the fight with an abomination over meeting noble in-laws any day.

 

They went up on deck and Cullen saw the coastline of Ostwick for the first time. The cliffs hugged the city and reached out into the bay like the welcoming arms of Andraste. They soared overhead, glittering white against the sun as seagulls hung in the air. The city itself was nestled among the cliffs, rising up into the headland. Multi-storeyed buildings of pale brown sandstone with ornate filigree rose upon tiers that led up to the top of the cliffs. At the top, towering above the city, was a castle, spires rising to the sky with impossibly huge banners of Ostwick's city crest hanging from the towers. In the harbour, ships were docked, masts like forest trees. “That’s quite a sight,” he said, standing at the rail and looking out at the city.

 

“It is,” Evelyn joined him. The wind caught the fur accents on her robes and tossed the tendrils of her hair even as it ran its fingers through Cullen’s fur shawl. She slipped her one good hand in his. He suspected there was more to her nervousness than his own general lack of patience with nobles. He wondered if her arm might be unsettling her. He decided to take her mind off things.

 

“And where is your house?” he asked.

 

“It’s at Clifftop,” she said. “The commoners live in the city proper. The higher up you are, the better. Just like in Kirkwall. Must be a Marcher affectation.”

 

“And your Circle?” he asked.

 

She beamed up at him. “That’s where it gets amazing. It’s at a place called Swallows Rest. We call it the Tears, as in Andraste’s Tears.”

 

“That sounds neither cheerful nor amazing,” he said dubiously. “I always thought the name was… rather anti-establishment.”

 

“We stayed neutral throughout the Mage Uprising. I’m the only mage from the Tears to raise her staff in that particular war.”

 

Their ship pulled into harbour, sailors calling out as they dropped ropes down to the dock hands. Cullen saw a waiting carriage on the docks, hitched to six pinto horses. They were of a sort Cullen had never seen before. Powerful broad chests and tall statures were offset with flowing manes that reached almost to the knees, their lower legs also bearing the same flowing feathering. They pawed at the cobblestone docks and nickered, their manes and leg feathering flowing like silk in the wind, like clouds. “Magnificent,” he breathed, leaning his hand on the pommel of his sword.

 

“That’s the Trevelyan Vanner,” Evelyn said. “It’s our family’s horse.” She was watching his expression carefully.

 

“They look amazing,” he said.

 

“Because of all the hair you could braid?” she whispered playfully.

 

“No,” he grinned back. “Although that’s not a bad idea.”

 

The sailors eventually started to lower the gangway. The carriage opened, the crest of the Trevelyan Vanner, glinting in the light. Out stepped a lithe young man, his hair was haphazardly slicked back, falling over his face with rackish disregard. He wore a dark green doublet and black leather vest, a cape tied absently over one shoulder and under his other arm. Perhaps surprisingly, he was armed with a thin rapier at his waist. Another man with a goatee emerged, far better dressed with an ornate doublet of embroidered silver with slashed sleeves. He wore pantaloons instead of breeches as his brother did. A heavy chain of office sat upon his neck, glinting gold.

 

Evelyn waved from the deck of  the ship. “That’s Ehren with the chain,” she said to Cullen. “And Eduard with that silly sword.”

 

The two watched her but did not wave. Only Eduard was grinning openly at her as Ehren merely smiled politely.

 

Cullen braced himself. He saw the way Eduard carried himself. The man knew his way around a blade. Ehren seemed more reserved, watching expectantly. When the gangway was lowered, Evelyn and Cullen headed down to the docks with Dog following them. “It’s about time you got home,” Eduard was shouting out at them. “And got married! Is that a mabari?” Eduard sounded excited.

 

“You’re still as noisy as ever!” Evelyn shouted back with a grin. Ehren merely sighed.

 

“Evelyn,” Ehren greeted as Eduard pat the excited dog. “And Ser Rutherford. My name is Ehren Philip Trevelyan, Evelyn’s eldest brother. This is Eduard Michal Trevelyan. It is a pleasure to welcome you to Ostwick.” Ehren bowed slightly, which Cullen returned. So the man was formal. Fair enough.

 

Eduard reached out to shake Cullen’s hand warmly. “A pleasure to meet you,” Eduard grinned. “I figured you should see a smiling face before…”

 

“Before what?” Cullen asked.

 

“Evelyn,” a voice cut through the conversation. It had the same timbre that Evelyn’s had, but more polished, more assured of itself. The voice came from the open carriage door. Cullen looked beyond the brothers to see a woman sitting in the carriage. Her distinguished salt and pepper hair tied back in a long braid under a veil and bongrace adorned with pearls. She wore a flowing grand gown of black and gold, laced with pearls. Her gloved hands emerged from her trailing sleeves. She held a delicate Orlesian mask on a golden handle. “Come in dear, it’s quite malodorous outside.”

 

“Mother,” Evelyn smiled, her heart in her eyes.

 

“Good thing you’re wearing armour, friend,” Eduard said to Cullen.

 

“That’s encouraging,” Cullen muttered as Evelyn nudged Eduard in the shoulder.

 

They climbed in the carriage and Cullen found himself seated opposite Lady Trevelyan with Evelyn beside him. She had a smile on her face, but he knew that didn’t necessarily mean she was pleased. “My lady,” he greeted politely.

 

“What of your hound?” Ehren asked.

 

“He’ll run alongside,” Cullen assured them. Dog barked, light glinting off its armour.

 

“How savage,” Lady Trevelyan noted mildly.

 

“He’s actually a puppy in a huge body, Mother,” Evelyn said as the carriage door shut behind Eduard. The carriage swayed slightly as it moved off. Cullen glanced out of the window, seeing a beggar in the street, watching the carriage move off from under a filthy white hood. 

 

“Indeed?”

 

Evelyn cleared her throat. “Mother, may I introduce my Cullen, my husband. Cullen, this Lady Marcelline Etienette Trevelyan, my mother.”

 

“Must you be so formal, dear?” Lady Marcelline chuckled. She bowed her head in a stately way to Cullen. Marcelline spoke with a hint of Orlesian accent in her words. “Marcelline would do, Cullen.”

 

“Thank you, Marcelline,” Cullen said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you at last. Evelyn has told me much about you.”

 

“Good things, I trust?” Marcelline asked.

 

“Is there anything other than good things to hear about you?” Cullen asked.

 

Marcelline laughed, her voice tittering over the sound of the carriage wheels on cobbles. “Aren’t you charming,” she said. “I was worried about you, Ser Rutherford. Evelyn’s news of marriage was… surprising.”

 

“It surprised me too,” Evelyn admitted, slipping her hand in his. “But I haven’t looked back since.”

 

“I’m glad that you’re happy, my dear. You must have a proper ceremony, of course,” Marcelline said.

 

“No,” Evelyn said simply. “We were married by the High Chancellor of the Chantry, Mother. No ceremony would be greater unless it were officiated by Cassandra herself.”

 

“I’ve heard about how the Divine used to travel with you, Evelyn,” Eduard cut in. “Did you really send the Divine and Inquisitor out on missions, Commander?”

 

Cullen saw what Eduard was doing. Praise and a reminder for Marcelline of the Inquisition’s link the Divine. The man’s subtlety was impressive. “I advised them,” Cullen said with a slight smile. “I merely suggested directions and they took off on their own.”

 

“Truly?” Marcelline looked at Cullen.

 

“Telling them to go was easier than telling them not to.”

 

Evelyn chuckled. “Well, Skyhold could get boring. It was so efficiently run, I had to find my entertainment elsewhere.”

 

“Storming keeps?” Eduard grinned.

 

“Perhaps.”

 

“That was a surprise, Evelyn,” Ehren said. “We thought you dead one day. The next we hear word that you’re alive and well, and using strange magic to seal rifts. And then your arm...”

 

“We were fighting an ancient evil,” Evelyn said quickly. “And my arm was removed out of necessity. My advisors proved invaluable, I’m lucky to have such capable people assisting me.”

 

Marcelline sighed. “We would have worried less had you written more,” she said. That was a sentiment Cullen had expressed to Evelyn before, but she insisted that they would worried more if they knew what she was truly facing as Inquisitor. 

 

“I know, Mother. I couldn’t for a long time. I’m sorry. But now we have a moment to breathe, and I’m glad to return home - and to introduce the man who reminded me what I was fighting for.”

 

Cullen glanced at Evelyn, feeling the warmth rising in him when he saw the honesty in her eyes. He coughed slightly in embarrassment. 

 

“Maker,” Eduard winced. “I don’t think even petit fours come sweeter than this.”

 

Ehren chuckled. “Evelyn has changed,” he noted mildly. “Though not all that much. We knew you liked Templars. This is, perhaps, not an unusual arrangement.”

 

“Ehren!” Evelyn blushed.

 

“She’s always liked Templars? This is news to me,” Cullen smiled.

 

“It’s nothing-”

 

“Ser Laurent, was it?” Eduard asked.

 

“Wasn’t there a Ser Girard as well?” Ehren grinned.

 

“Shut up, you both!” Evelyn’s face was flaming now as Cullen watched her with amusement.

 

“How fascinating,” he murmured mildly. She did not look at him, her cheeks flaming. 

 

Marcelline smiled warmly at the exchange and turned her gaze out the window, speaking no more.

 

Cullen braced himself. He had the vague impression that Marcelline was not all that approving of him. Where Eduard and Ehren were easier to read, Lady Marcelline was as enigmatic as the Fade.

 

 


	2. The Game Will Find You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It all seemed like such a nice start to the day, until Cullen realizes that the Game will find you no matter what you do. Every smile, every laugh belies an ulterior motive.

The city of Ostwick was indeed similar to Kirkwall. The higher their carriage climbed the terraces, the nicer the homes became - from ramshackle warehouses and houses at the harbour to paved streets and boulevards with tall pines lining the streets, well appointed shops open to the roadside. The smell of the sea was pervasive but faded the farther up they went. The upper-most terrace opened out to the Clifftop district. A long boulevard led to the palace, flanked by trees. Streets branched off the boulevard, all leading to mansions surrounded by high walls.

 

The higher they went, the more eyes turned to watch Dog running past, panting with gusto with his armour glinting. “This is called Teyrn’s Way,” Evelyn told him as he spent his time looking out at the city. She paused, looking out at the street. “There,” she pointed to a small alcove in a wall, holding a statue of Andraste. Water poured from Andraste’s hands into a small basin. “I used to play there.”

 

“I tried to drown her there once,” Eduard added breezily. “As a joke, of course.”

 

“What?” Cullen blinked, not knowing whether to laugh or be appalled. “That’s terrible. What did you do?”

 

“I curtailed his ability to have children,” Evelyn said with a grin. “It’s why Eduard’s still unmarried.”

 

“She kicks like a mule,” Eduard laughed. “Cullen, take it from me, don’t test her.”

 

“I would never!” Evelyn tossed her head.

 

“I’m not sure we’re making the best impression here, Cullen,” Ehren said apologetically.

 

“No, don’t worry,” Cullen laughed awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck.

 

“You’ll have to take us as you find us, Commander Cullen,” Marcelline smiled at him as the carriage turned into a side street. “We’re a very informal family. Some of my children more so than others.”

 

The carriage entered the gates of a tall mansion with towering blue walls topped with ornate golden spikes. Cullen looked up at the spikes. They were ornate, to be sure, but still sharp. It was a good defensible touch. Their pathway rounded a fountain with a golden lion, spewing water from its mouth. To Cullen’s country bumpkin eye, it looked as if the lion was throwing up with fervour after a night at the pub. The Trevelyan house was large and two storeyed, painted shades of blue. White marble columns lined the foyer, supporting what looked to be a balcony above grand oak double doors.

 

A well-dressed dwarf stood by the door, his beard combed in an elaborate triple braid, white hair hanging over his shoulders even as his head was balding. A servant stood with him, opening the carriage door as the carriage came to a stop. Dog lay down on the gravel, panting heavily.

 

“My Lady,” the dwarf bowed, offering his hand to Marcelline as she disembarked. Marcelline daintily let go of the dwarf’s gloved hand and climbed the staircase to the double doors. “And mistress,” the dwarf smiled at Evelyn, helping her down.

 

“Bando!” Evelyn exclaimed exuberantly, throwing her arms around the dwarf.

 

Bando laughed in delight. “Welcome home, Mistress Evelyn. It has been too long.”

 

“Bando! I want you to meet someone!” she breathed excitedly, turning the dwarf around as Cullen climbed out of the carriage. “Look!” Evelyn said proudly, extravagantly showing Cullen off.

 

Cullen blinked, things were getting stranger by the minute. She hugged the dwarf, but not her own family. “Er, hello,” Cullen said uncertainly.

 

“Nice to see that it’s a husband and not a goat this time,” Bando laughed. “Much more agreeable, Mistress - and easier on the carpeting.” Evelyn burst into laughter, hugging Cullen’s arm affectionately.

 

“I am finding out more about you by the minute, Evelyn,” Cullen chuckled.

 

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Cullen,” said Ehren from within the carriage as Eduard climbed out. “I must get back to work at the palace. We shall dine together this evening. Good day to you.”

 

“Good day to you,” Cullen replied.

 

“Bando,” Marcelline called the dwarf.

 

“My lady,” Bando said, heading to her side. “Apologies. As requested, the tailors will be here shortly for the fittings. The rooms have all been prepared and invitations sent out.”

 

“Marvelous,” said Marcelline. She gestured with her mask to Cullen, Evelyn and Eduard. “Let us not stand here on the doorsteps like beggars. Come in.”

 

“Invitations?” Cullen asked Evelyn as they headed inside the house.

 

“For a salon next week,” Eduard supplied. “Mother invited the Teyrn over to meet with you both. He was quite eager to attend.”

 

“Oh.” One of those, Cullen sighed inwardly.

 

“Perhaps you both would like to make yourselves presentable after your long journey,” Marcelline said mildly as she stopped by the door of her drawing room. “Bando has everything prepared, I trust?”

 

“Of course, my lady,” Bando said.

 

Eduard smiled at them both. “I’ll leave you both to settle down, Cullen may need a moment or two to absorb everything.” He waved at them and headed off down the hallway, his cape flaring out as he walked.

 

Bando led them up a grand staircase to the upper floor. Evelyn had fallen quiet as she walked the hallways, her expression wistful. The house was well appointed, seeming much more like an Orlesian mansion than a Free Marcher mansion. Bando opened a tall white door with golden inlays. “Mistress Evelyn, Master Cullen,” he bowed as they entered the room. Dog padded in after them. “Everything is prepared for you. Do summon me should you require anything.”

 

He let himself out with a warm smile at Evelyn. Evelyn sighed heavily as she door shut. She looked around the room. A large fireplace dominated one wall with a painting hung above of some old ancestor. A large double bed loomed opposite it. The whole side of the room was open to a balcony that overlooked the city below, tall curtains waving slightly in the breeze.

 

“It’s lovely,” Cullen said, taking in the room.

 

“Isn’t it?” Evelyn said wistfully. “I never got to use it much after being sent to the Circle.” She turned and grabbed the side of his breastplate, leaning up to kiss him fervently on the lips. Though surprised, he didn’t object, wrapping his arms around her as they kissed with a strange fire that burned in her. “Will you help me turn this into a big girl’s room?” she asked hotly, her forehead pressing against his.

 

It had been a strange day all round so why not, Cullen decided. He smirked at her and lifted her up. Her legs wrapped around his waist, their lips locked, her hips pressing against his growing need as he carried her to the bed.

 

++++

 

Evelyn was sitting at her ornate dresser, combing her damp hair and humming in contentment when Cullen came out of the bath. She was donned in a dressing robe, the silk clinging to her curves. “The adjoining bath with piped hot water is genius,” he said as he dried his hair, his tunic draping his shoulder. He was donned only in his breeches and the soft leather shoes that were placed in the room. How Bando knew his size was a mystery.

 

“I know,” Evelyn smiled at him in the mirror. “What a good idea you had for us to make use of it. You are quite a naughty man.”

 

He kissed her neck. She yelped in surprise when he grabbed her bottom playfully. “I have my moments,” he purred in her ears.

 

“Maker’s breath!” Evelyn blushed. Cullen liked the way she looked when she blushed. She was eight years younger than he was, sometimes it was easy to forget that.

 

“Are you quite satisfied that the room is now suitably adult?” he asked, straightening up to pull his tunic on.

 

“I don’t know,” she said. “I see a few more places that need to be… blessed. We’ll work on it, love.”

 

He chuckled, shaking his head, feeling affectionately close to the woman who had transformed his life. There was a polite knock on the door.

 

Evelyn adjusted her robe to cover herself more. “Enter,” she called.

 

Bando opened the door. The dwarf was flanked by two men carrying chests. “Mistress, Master Cullen,” he greeted. Dog perked up at the sight of the visitors. “The tailors are here.”

 

The two men set two chests down by Evelyn’s wardrobe and began to unpack the garments, hanging them neatly. There were dresses, tunics, vests, doublets. Cullen raised an eyebrow.

 

“Mistress Trevelyan sent your measurements ahead, Master Cullen,” the dwarf explained.

 

“What? All of them?” Cullen blinked.

 

“The ones the tailors and cobblers required, of course,” Bando chuckled.

 

“How do you know my measurements?” Cullen asked Evelyn as she came to admire the clothes.

 

“I know, love,” she smiled mysteriously.

 

“Best not to question how a woman acquires her knowledge, Ser,” Bando chuckled.

 

“Truly,” Cullen murmured.

 

“Not to question the accuracy of the young Mistress’s approximations, but the tailors will require your actual measurements,” Bando said. “Consider the clothing a gift from Lady Marcelline.”

 

Cullen tried not to sigh. “Do convey my thanks to her,” he said.

 

The tailors were polite as they took his measurements. Cullen endured it. It was a nice gift from his mother in law who didn’t seem to want to speak to him. She wasn’t insinuating that he had bad clothes. So why couldn’t he bring himself to believe that?

 

Cullen finally lowered his arms and reached out to pull on his tunic once more. He bound it with a simple sash about his waist. “Is it my turn?” asked Evelyn.

 

“Yes, mistress,” said Bando. “They’ve also brought some samples.” Evelyn’s eyes lit up. Cullen knew that look. He had accompanied her on shopping trips before.

 

Evelyn looked at Cullen. “Would you like to explore the house?” she asked. “This may take a while. It usually does, for women.”

 

“I would like to explore the house, yes,” Cullen said mildly. Evelyn smiled and rolled her eyes. “At least this time, Josephine won’t be griping about the bill.”

 

Evelyn kissed him as he moved to leave with Bando. “Is everything to your satisfaction so far, Master Cullen?” asked Bando as they walked down the hallway.

 

“Everything is perfect, Bando,” Cullen assured him, walking with his hands in the pockets  of his breeches.

 

“I am pleased to hear it, Master Cullen,” Bando smiled at him. “Where would you like to explore first? We have stables, a library, a weapons room and a drawing room.”

 

“Weapons room, please,” Cullen said, unable to keep the excitement from his voice.

 

Bando grinned up at him. “I thought that might be your answer,” he said. They walked through the hallways, heading to what seemed like the other end of the house. “How has Mistress Evelyn been, if I may be so bold to ask,” Bando said quietly.

 

“She has been well,” Cullen replied. “She’s kept quite busy as Inquisitor. This is the first since the Conclave that she’s been able to get away from her duties.”

 

“We all mourned when we heard of the Conclave,” Bando said. “It was a blessing from the Maker that she turned out alright. We are very proud of her.”

 

Cullen sensed the affection the old dwarf had for Evelyn. “She’s happy to be home,” he said. “You can see it in the way she greeted you.”

 

Bando smiled up at Cullen. “You are a kind man to say so,” he said. “Mistress Evelyn chose her husband well.”

 

“I’d like to hope so,” Cullen replied. Bando stopped in front of a door and opened it. Cullen looked inside the room. It was truly a weapons room, and quite surprising to find in a house owned by Marcelline. Axes, swords and shields lined the racks against the walls. There were training dummies along one wall of the room as well, all lit by tall windows through which sunlight streamed. “This…” Cullen looked about in admiration as his voice echoed in the vaulted room, “is unexpected.”

 

“The Young Masters collect them,” Bando said helpfully.

 

“There you are!” Cullen heard. He saw Eduard entering from an adjoining room. The man had set aside his silly cape and now wore merely his leather vest. He was sweating. “I was wondering when you’d find this place. Sooner than I expected, it seems. Leave us, Bando, I’m sure Master Cullen isn’t squeamish around weapons.” Bando bowed and left Cullen in the room.

 

“What’s Evelyn doing?” Eduard asked as Cullen walked to browse the weapon racks, his hands in his pockets.

 

“Getting fitted for a dress or five,” Cullen replied.

 

“That’s going to take a while,” Eduard said breezily.

 

“Did you really try to drown her?” Cullen asked.

 

Eduard laughed. The man was easy to get along with, Cullen realized. His quick laugh and quick wit were infectious. “No, of course not,” Eduard replied. “Not seriously, at any rate. I just pushed her into the fountain and she can’t swim. She panicked and kicked me.”

 

“She can’t swim?” That would explain why she hates ship travel. He would have to teach her. It was amazing that in all her travels across Thedas, she had never once fallen into a lake.

 

“Not since the last time I checked,” Eduard said, joining Cullen at the weapon racks. “I take it you know your way around these.”

 

“By and large,” Cullen replied modestly. Truth be told, he was trained in every weapon in the room except battle axes - mostly because they did not fit the Templar image, he suspected.

 

“What’s your favourite?” asked Eduard.

 

“Sword and shield,” Cullen smiled. “I am- I was a Templar, after all.”

 

Eduard smirked at him and drew a blunt longsword and kite shield from one of the racks. He handed them to Cullen, who raised an eyebrow questioningly as they were placed in his hands.

 

“Would you care for a friendly sparring session, Commander?” asked Eduard.

 

Cullen’s mind raced. He wasn’t keen on damaging his brother in law on the first day. Eduard drew two daggers from a rack. “I really don’t think-” Cullen began.

 

“I really don’t think you’re worth my sister,” Eduard said suddenly, pointing a dagger at him.

 

Cullen’s expression shut down as he stared at Eduard. A smirk played at the corner of Eduard’s lips. Cullen knew he was being goaded.

 

“I would prefer not to fight you,” he said.

 

“I think you’re nothing but an old has-been who has somehow seduced my frankly impressionable little sister,” Eduard went on. “I think you would prefer not to fight because you can’t.”

 

“And I think you’re saying anything to get me to spar with you,” Cullen said, setting the sword back in its rack. “It’s perhaps best you do not go up against a veteran.”

 

He turned to return the shield to its place on the rack. The dagger whizzed by his head, aimed to miss. Cullen brought the shield up just in time to deflect the other. The dagger clattered off into the room. Cullen felt his cheeks heat with his rising anger. He drew the sword again with a steely hiss. Eduard drew two more daggers from the rack. The sword rested in Cullen’s hand, perfectly balanced. Who did this ass think he was, he thought, glaring at Eduard.

 

“Just sparring then, since you’re so insistent,” Cullen said, raising sword and shield to his defensive stance.

 

Eduard raised his own two daggers, holding them in a form Cullen was familiar with. It was one he’d seen in the Undercity of Kirkwall, where thieves had no tuition in fighting save what they learned on the streets. How did Eduard come to fight like this? Eduard and Cullen paced around each other, their steps matching each others as they circled. Cullen expected Eduard to strike first, being as brash as a new recruit.

 

True enough, Eduard charged, feinting right before bringing his dagger around the left side of Cullen’s shield. Cullen caught Eduard’s elbow with the side of his shield, knocking the arm away. His sword swiped away the blade that cut in from the right. A hard push from his shield sent Eduard staggering backwards.

 

Eduard caught his balance and looked at Cullen thoughtfully, a smile playing on his lips. He cricked his shoulder and charged again, the strikes coming fast. Cullen ducked a stab to the head and deflected a strike from the second dagger with his shield. He sidestepped Eduard, and slashed at the man’s side. Eduard seemed to dance out of the way, stepping to Cullen’s side. The stab was caught on the edge of Cullen’s shield. He struck out with the pommel of the sword to Eduard’s face. Eduard leaned back, the strike missing him.

 

Cullen saw the grin on that stupid face as the fight intensified. He hated to admit it, but he was starting to feel his blood flowing, even if he did want to wipe that grin off Eduard’s face. Cullen attacked this time, knocking both dagger blades out of the way with his shield, his sword cutting down at Eduard.

 

Eduard flexed back and dodged the blow. Before Eduard could straighten up, he brought both daggers to a cross, catching the edge of Cullen’s shield that slammed down to Eduard’s neck. Cullen pressed the attack, not relenting, not releasing Eduard’s daggers. Eduard winced as he sank to his knees under the weight of Cullen’s force.

 

“You’re good,” Eduard grunted as he at Cullen.

 

“So are you,” Cullen grudgingly admitted. “But if this were a real fight, you’d be dead.”

 

“Oh yeah?” Eduard grit his teeth.

 

“How much did you want children exactly?” Cullen grinned. Eduard looked down at Cullen’s sword between Eduard's legs.

 

“Maker’s balls,” Eduard chuckled, sweating as he pushed back Cullen’s shield. “You fight like a true bastard.” Eduard pushed back on the shield, Cullen retaliated with more force that allowed Eduard to lever the shield to the side with his blades. The shield clanged against the floor. Eduard seemed to roll over Cullen’s back, daggers flashing. He moved to stab again. The blade caught Cullen’s shield instead.

 

Sword and dagger moved to their targets, time seeming to slow as the blades flashed. Cullen blinked, feeling the magic tingle in the air. A blast of force sent them staggering. Evelyn was standing at the door, her eyes flashing angrily. “What. Are. You. Doing.” Her voice was a growl through clenched teeth.

 

Cullen straightened up, breathing hard and feeling foolish. “Evelyn!” Eduard sighed, lowering his daggers. “We were just sparring.”

 

“No you were not!” Evelyn shouted, she stalked across the room to Eduard. “I know exactly what you were doing, Eduard!”

 

“Just leave us alone Evelyn!” Eduard snapped. “We were just sparring! You could have killed us, throwing us off like that!”

 

Evelyn grit her teeth and rounded her angry gaze to Cullen. “Is this true?” Evelyn demanded.

 

Cullen shot Eduard a dark look. Eduard’s gaze was insistent. Cullen already felt like a fool, he didn’t want to make things worse with Evelyn. “Yes, it is true,” he said. “We were just sparring.” It wasn’t a total lie.

 

Evelyn glared at Eduard again. “If you hurt him, Eduard…” she growled.

 

“I hurt him?” Eduard exclaimed. “He was winning!”

 

Evelyn gave them both a disgusted look and turned away, storming out of the room. She slammed the door behind her. Cullen glared at Eduard, who grinned him. Cullen said nothing, heading to the rack instead to return the weapons. Eduard dropped the daggers on the ground, walking after Cullen. “You fight like a veteran indeed,” Eduard said cooly.

 

“Shut up,” Cullen growled, replacing both sword and shield on the rack.

 

“You really are a not a gentleman at all, Cullen Rutherford.” Eduard smiled, his blue eyes calculating. Cullen ignored him and began to walk out of the room.

 

“I hope you fight harder than that for her when the time comes,” Eduard went on.

 

Cullen rounded on the man. “Listen to me, you little twerp,” he growled, his glare as bitter as the bile that rose in him. “I’m not here to play these stupid games. Do not toy with me.”

 

“Sorry to disappoint, Commander,” said Eduard cooly. “The Game will find you whether you like it or not. You started playing the minute you got off the ship. And in the game, you win or you die.” Eduard’s eyes were cold in the fire of Cullen’s dull rage. He stepped away from Cullen and walked to the door. “At least I know whatever happens, Evelyn will have you at her back. That is comforting in light of things to come.”

 

Eduard shut the door behind him.

 

Cullen stared ahead, his jaw clenching. His punch on an offending training dummy echoed in the vaulted room. Cullen swore viciously as the dummy toppled, his hand flaring with pain from the blow. Why in the Maker’s name did he ever agree to come to Ostwick?

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments always welcome! Knowing people enjoy my writing keeps me encouraged to write more :D


	3. Death in the Warrens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> News of murders in the Warrens of Ostwick reaches Evelyn and Cullen. Cullen realizes he's about to find out how far and deep the Game goes in Ostwick, from the Evelyn's own home to the depths of the city.

For the rest of the afternoon, Cullen made it a point to stay in Evelyn’s room. He wasn’t keen on any more social interactions. Evelyn saw his expression as dark as thunder when he returned, but thankfully she asked no questions. Knowing her, she would have choice words for Eduard. That ponce. It was a shame, Cullen reflected as he sat down to play with Dog. The one person he thought was actually decent. You couldn’t trust anyone in the Game, it appeared.

 

Evelyn let him while away the rest of the afternoon on his own until she finally spoke. “We need to get dressed, love,” she said mildly, already picking out a dress from the wardrobe. “Dinner is in an hour.”

 

“Andraste preserve me,” Cullen sighed heavily.

 

“Eduard won’t be there,” she said. “He goes out most evenings and doesn’t eat at home, Bando said.”

 

“That’s one blessing,” Cullen said, standing up from where he was seated on the carpet with Dog on his lap.

 

“I’ll talk to him,” Evelyn promised. Cullen knew what she meant by ‘talk’. “Dinner will be with my mother and Ehren. “

 

“Right,” Cullen said, calming himself. There was no use in losing his temper with nobles. And this was Evelyn’s family. He couldn’t do that to her. He went to the closet and pulled out a simple doublet. It was coloured a deep burgundy and made of soft velvet.

 

“Your mother’s gift is extravagant,” he noted sourly. “Why is she giving me these?”

 

“I don’t know,” Evelyn admitted. Cullen was not in the mood for games and Evelyn knew it. He was grateful for her direct answer. “I think she just wanted you to have them. She does things like that sometimes.”

 

He grunted and got changed, suspicious of everything in this house now.

 

Evelyn donned a simple blue dress that left her shoulders bare, the bodice laced with a red sash that set off the blue nicely. She pulled her curls over one shoulder and left them free. She glanced at Cullen through the mirror. He sat at the edge of the bed, leaning his elbows on his knees ad he scratched Dog’s ears.

 

He heard her sigh softly. He glanced up to see the disappointed expression on her face. Maker’s breath, he thought and stood up. He had to try, for her sake.

 

“You look lovely,” he said, going to her side. “Do you want to braid your hair?”

 

She smiled gratefully up at him. “Not today,” she replied. “Let’s leave it.” She stood up and kissed him lightly. “The food is good,” she assured him. “You’ll be putting on a few pounds between now and Skyhold.”

 

Cullen forced a smile. “Well, good thing I have all these new clothes and tailors to let them out,” he said.

 

++++

 

The table was elegantly set when Evelyn entered the dining room. Cullen had seen such finery before. Delicate candle holders held fine wax candles on the table, giving off pleasant light and pleasant scents. The light illuminated the fine porcelain and crystal goblets laid out for four. In Skyhold, Cullen used tallow candles, which was smoky and dim. There were more Orlesian filigree and decorations here. Clearly, Marcelline was proud of her heritage. There was a parlour at the end of the dining room. In a corner, lutists played a pleasant tune. Everything was... pleasant, which which did little to ease his suspicion.

 

“Is it like this every dinner?” Cullen asked Evelyn.

 

“Only when she’s got guests,” Evelyn smiled up at him, curling her arm with his. “Would it be unprofessional if I were to ask you to join me for a drink in the parlour, Commander?”

 

“I think it might be, but we can keep it a secret,” he purred. A servant soundlessly entered, serving them tiny glasses of sherry. Cullen quite liked the sherry. The drinks were proving nicer than the people. He looked at Evelyn, sitting down by the fireplace and draining the glass. “Go easy,” Cullen said mildly. It was delicious sherry but she drank it like apple juice.

 

“Don’t worry,” Evelyn grinned at him as a servant topped up her glass. “That was just a taster. Now I savour.” He smiled down at her as she swirled her sherry in its small glass. The firelight danced off the skin of her bare shoulder, playing in her dark hair. She glowed. He knew what Sera meant. But she wound up with a has-been, did she? The thought intruded itself in his mind. His fist began to itch.

 

He drained his glass. Remember. Stay calm. This is for Evelyn’s benefit.

 

The door opened. Ehren entered with a smile, still donned in his silver embroidered doublet with his gold chain of office. “Ah, you’re here,” said Ehren said, seeing them in the parlour. He moved to join them. The servant handed him a glass of sherry. “Maker’s breath, what a day,” he sighed as he sat down opposite Evelyn, crossing his legs.

 

“Politics with Starkhaven again?” Evelyn asked.

 

“I wish,” Ehren replied. “The committee chooses to sit on its hands instead of sending guards to do what they’re paid to do. I’d rather deal with politics than the Warrens.”

 

“The Warrens?” Cullen asked.

 

“It’s the poor quarters,” Evelyn said. “Like Kirkwall’s Darktown. We don’t have that much usable land. Ostwick’s built into the cliffs. Some people can’t even afford daylight.”

 

“Inevitably,” Cullen sighed. “And no guards patrol there?”

 

“Maker forbid,” said Ehren sipped his sherry. “In the Warrens, a guard’s breastplate is better put to use as counterfeit coins. Anything else becomes dinner - guard included, so I hear.”

 

“That can’t be true,” Evelyn said.

 

“It’s what they say in the barracks. Not that it matters. I have contingents of the third and fourth sons of nobles and merchant princes. The ones who are not pious enough for the Templars nor disciplined enough for the army. They become city guards, because, of course, they do. I’m lucky if they know which boot goes on which foot.”

 

“I know what you mean,” Cullen chuckled.

 

“Of course, being precious sons of important people means they inevitably have to be kept out of danger or the committee will… get a complaint.”

 

Evelyn winced. “Maker’s breath, is that still going on?”

 

“What does the city guard care about complaints?” Cullen asked.

 

“Ah, Commander, were it that simple,” Ehren sighed. “The guards here do not actually fall under the control of the Teyrn. They are run by a collective of noble representatives. We are advised by the Teyrn, but we do not report to him. Some noble houses here manage a part of the city in addition to any land holdings we have in the countryside, that’s under mother’s purview. I represent the Trevelyans in the Committee.”

 

“How does that even function?” Cullen asked incredulously. “A guard that is run by committee? You’d have better luck trying to herd cats.”

 

Ehren laughed. “I should recommend you for our Committee, Commander. Your opinions would be a welcomed dose of reality.”

 

“Are you trying to poach the Inquisition’s Commander?” Evelyn looked shocked.

 

“Perhaps. Technically, he’s a Trevelyan, now,” Ehren looked up at Cullen. “What say you, Commander? You’d look good with a chain of office.”

 

“I can think of no faster way to age than trying to run a city guard under the advisement of nobles,” Cullen winced.

 

Ehren laughed at that. “The minutes would be so much more entertaining to read if you attended meetings,” he grinned. Cullen found himself more inclined to like Ehren, but Eduard had made him leery.

 

“We have one minutes of meeting where the Commander pointed out that Lake Calenhad looks like a bunny if you squint,” Evelyn said. “Though I think the Scribe was tired and wrote that down in a bout of passive aggression.”

 

“What is going on in the Warrens anyway?” asked Cullen.

 

“What isn’t?”’ Ehren asked. “Every vice is represented. But what concerns us is news of mutilations. Parents killed, children get their tongues cut out. Albrecht’s orphanages are filling up with mutilated children.”

 

“Maker’s breath,” Evelyn sighed. “No one is doing anything?”

 

“We’re trying to. Somehow. Maybe next year, we might even reach a decision,” Ehren said sourly.

 

“Albrecht has orphanages?” Cullen asked before she could stop him.

 

“He sponsors several,” said Ehren, glancing at Evelyn. Cullen caught the exchange in their eyes. “Regardless of this, the Committee will not commit any guards to sweep the Warrens,” Ehren asked, changing the subject. “They say they have no leads, because no one is assigned to investigate - and no one is assigned to investigate because they have no leads.”

 

“That makes sense,” Evelyn noted drily.

 

There was a polite cough from the door. Bando stood with liveried servants entering past him, bearing trolleys of food. “My Lady Marcelline bids that you begin dinner without her. She is presently engaged.”

 

Evelyn’s eyes tightened as Ehren sighed. “Is father returning anytime soon?” she asked Bando.

 

“Not till Autumn, Mistress,” the old dwarf said kindly.

 

Evelyn sighed.

 

“It looks like I’ll be your host for the evening,” Ehren smiled warmly. “Let’s eat, shall we? You must be famished.” They headed to the table which was growing laden with food as the serving staff set out spiced nug, perfectly seasoned stews, jelly and a delicate white sculpture in the centre of the table. “Sugar?” Cullen asked as he sat down, looking at the sugar sculpture shaped like a small swan. “Maker’s breath.”

 

“From far off Rivaini,” Ehren replied. “It’s probably Mother’s way of saying hello.”

 

Evelyn said nothing and reached out with her fork. She stabbed the sugar swan, breaking it into two pieces. Cullen and Ehren exchanged a look as Evelyn sighed in satisfaction. “It’s easier to eat that way,” she beamed at Cullen. Cullen raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

 

“So, Commander,” Ehren said warmly, opting to ignore his sister’s veiled show of displeasure. “How fares the Inquisition’s transition to a peacekeeping force?”

 

“It goes well,” said Cullen, moving the discussion along. Why did the house feel like he were sitting in a nest of snakes? Cullen wondered if this had always been the case in the Trevelyan household. Then he wondered what Evelyn’s childhood must have been like, to feel free to hug the butler over your own mother.

 

Evelyn said little as they sat to eat, the conversation revolving predominantly around Cullen and Ehren. Now that Cullen knew that Ehren’s position was not all that dissimilar to his own, he began to actually enjoy the meal and the company, though he was still wary of Ehren’s intentions. Cullen was so stuffed to the brim with food that he barely touched the sugar, even though he loved the stuff. Evelyn bit into the swan’s head viciously and winced, shuddering as the sweetness filled her mouth. She washed it down with more wine. Evelyn drank from her goblet of wine with fervour. Cullen knew her constitution was quite high when it came to her drink, but her cheeks reddened as the dinner progressed.

 

Ehren kept a watch on his sister as the plates were being cleared away. “I think I should let you adjourn for the evening,” Ehren said finally, running his fingers across his trimmed goatee.

 

“But your conversation is going well,” Evelyn said in protest as her wind goblet was topped up.

 

“I’m a little tired, love,” Cullen said. “An early night would be welcome.” She glanced at him and nodded.

 

Ehren paused, looking at Evelyn. “Sleep well, Eve. It’s not that bad,” he said cryptically.

 

Evelyn snorted. “Things never change,” she said harshly as she stood up, her chest and neck glowing with the heat of the wine.

 

Ehren sighed. “Perhaps we can speak again another time, Cullen,” he said. Cullen nodded, leading Evelyn back to their bedroom.

 

As their bedroom door shut, Evelyn walked to the balcony, leaning her arm on the railing. Cullen unbuttoned the vest’s top three buttons, sighing as he felt his neck freed. He joined her at the balcony, leaning on the railing next to her. Dog looked up from the fireplace and lowered its head back down, snoring happily. “This reminds me of Halam Shiral,” Evelyn smiled sadly at him, her cheeks bathed by the glow of the moon.

 

“I remember thinking, Cullen, if you don’t go to her now, you will regret it for the rest of your life,” he confided, touching her bare arm comfortingly.

 

Evelyn sighed a little wistfully. “I will never forget the dance,” she breathed. “I’m glad you joined me on the balcony that night. The ball truly troubled me.”

 

“And tonight?” he asked. “Are you troubled as well?”

 

Evelyn was silent for a moment, the breeze tugging at her loose locks of hair. They looked out for a while over the city, the moon casting a glimmering highway across the waters. Evelyn straightened up and drew a deep breath. “Mother had company over tonight,” she said quietly, her eyelids lowered.

 

“Company?” Cullen asked, standing. “What do you-” She cast him a glance. He paused. “Oh.”

 

Evelyn sighed, slapping her hand on the railing in resignation. “That’s my house,” she sneered. “My mother invites her ‘friend’ over, not even a thought that she hasn’t seen me in years. My brother is an idiot playing games bigger than he is, and Ehren just accepts everything!” She shook her head, her locks swinging in the breeze. “And Father… Father is never home. Stupid. Why did I even come back to Ostwick?”

 

She turned and leaned against the railing, holding the stump of her arm. Cullen’s rough hands warmed her upper arms as he held her comfortingly, kissing her forehead. “I’m sorry, Cullen,” she said softly, their foreheads resting against each other’s. “I thought it would be different. I thought they would have… changed.”

 

He said nothing. Sometimes her hopefulness and optimism was perhaps overmuch. Still, he couldn’t blame her for hoping that her family had mellowed. “We could go,” she said quietly. “Let’s just leave.” It was so tempting to say yes.

 

“On that balcony that night, I took a chance,” Cullen said quietly. “I wasn’t just betting that I could at least dance without making a fool of myself. I was betting that you wouldn’t say no.” He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “My faith was rewarded, thank the Maker.”

 

She chuckled ruefully, looking up at him.

 

“I think… and I may regret saying this, but I think we should stay.”

 

“What?” Evelyn blinked.

 

“We may never be back here,” he said seriously. “Are you truly willing to leave it like this?”

 

Evelyn lowered her gaze and bit her lip. “Maker,” she sighed, wrapping her arm around him, embracing him as she leaned her head on his chest. “I hate it when you’re right.”

 

“It will be fine,” Cullen said, wondering who he was reassuring exactly. “I think we both need to settle down. Everyone’s always strange when they have a reunion after so long.”

 

“Perhaps,” she murmured.

 

“Has it always been like this?” Cullen asked, stroking her hair.

 

He felt her nod against his chest. “It was worse before I left for the Tears,” she confided. “Father and Mother would fight viciously. Then Father just… went on business. I’m honestly making this being married thing up as I go along. I have no solid frame of reference on how to act.”

 

He chuckled. “You’re doing wonderfully,” he said. “By and large.”

 

“Thanks,” she winced, looking up at him, her body a bundle of nerves in his arms.

 

On impulse, he kissed her again, more seriously this time. He felt the tension drain from her muscles as she flowed into the kiss, her lips tasting of wine with all the sweetness of sugar. Cullen deepened the kiss, holding the nape of her neck with his calloused hand. She moaned in both desire and pleasurable surprise. He could taste the sugar even in her mouth.

 

She let her breath pass through parted lips as he pulled back, her head resting in his hand. He licked his lips, hints of sweetness from the kiss. She looked at him quizically, one eyebrow raised. “Sugar,” he explained and her laughter rose to the starry sky.

 

++++

 

Breakfast was wonderful. Cullen couldn’t help but enjoy himself as he sat on the balcony, a wrought iron table set with sausages, fresh milk, and hot bread. Evelyn watched him eat with a slight smile on her face, leaning her head on her hand, her plate empty already. Cullen knew she was laughing at him with her eyes, but honestly, breakfast was too good to care. He looked out over the city of Ostwick, embraced by her white cliffs and headlands. The breeze was blowing, the smell of the sea invigorating.

 

Cullen set down his fork and knife, and wiped his lips with a napkin. “The view is almost worth the drama, isn’t it?” Evelyn asked.

 

Cullen chuckled. “Nearly, but not quite,” he said, sipping his milk.

 

“If you keep on eating so much, I’m going to have to order you to double your training, Commander,” she teased.

 

He smiled at her, her blue eyes meeting his, the breeze tugging at the locks of her hair. That silk dressing robe she was completely different from her garb at Skyhold. Cullen quite liked seeing the softer side of her attire. She was less the Inquisitor here and more the young woman that he had actually married. “What do nobles do on a day like today?” Cullen asked her curiously.

 

“Well, you know,” she sighed, reaching out to smooth down his hair already tossed by the wind despite the beeswax. “Spread rumours, plot a political rival’s death, perhaps kick around a servant or two if we feel so inclined.”

 

“Sounds exciting,” Cullen said, enduring her idle fingers running through his hair.

 

“I know. I haven’t kicked anyone in ages,” she grinned. “Or, if those nobles in question are not complete bastards, we play music, see to the running of our lands, or spend money.”

 

“You play music?”

 

“The lute,” she said, dropping her fingers from his hair. “Or, I used to. Mother has invited me to the conservatory to sing with her.”

 

Cullen blinked.

 

Evelyn straightened up. “You, on the other hand, have been invited by Eduard to visit the city.”

 

“Andraste preserve me,” Cullen ran his hand over his face. There went the beautiful morning.

 

“It’s a peace offering, he assures me,” Evelyn squeezed his hand. “He’s an idiot, yes, most brother’s are.”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“You think Mia wouldn’t agree? He’s still the… nicest of us.” There was pleading in her eyes. “It’ll be a chance for him to apologise to you in person. You can also find out what in the Void he was up to with that foolish bout.”

 

“He told you, did he?” Cullen asked.

 

“He did. He won’t tell me why, however. I suspect some hare-brained scheme of his is afoot.”

 

“And you want me to - what? Tell him to stop it?”

 

“Help me find out what it is, and I’ll put a stop to it if need be.”

 

“Maker’s breath…”

 

“Cullen, please.” She paused, her thumb rubbing his hand thoughtfully. “When I was taken to the Tears, Mother wouldn’t let either of them visit me.” She drew a deep breath. “Eduard was the only one who’d sneak out to see me in those early days.”

 

“Your mother is sounding nicer by the day,” Cullen snorted and regretted it instantly when he saw her crestfallen expression. “I mean- That is- Maker’s breath,” he stuttered and sighed as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I mean, I’ll go with Eduard. You should try to, you know - make up with your mother.”

 

Evelyn looked up at him, her blue eyes vulnerable. “I’m sure you can. You’re not the same woman you were when you left here. She should come to see that, just as you should not forget that.”

 

Evelyn smiled at him and stood to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “I’ll do well not to forget. Buy me something nice?”

 

Cullen chuckled. “Of course, anything in particular?” he asked.

 

“Surprise me,” she grinned to get dressed.

 

Cullen found himself at the stables a while later, leaving behind the expensive doublets and opting instead for his simpler leather vest and tunic. He didn’t bring a sword with him, the last thing he wanted was for Eduard to think he took the man seriously. He headed down to the stables where he was to meet Eduard. Once again, he was struck by the beauty of the Trevelyan Vanners, their manes, their feathering, the grace with which they turned to look at him with their dark eyes. He was itching to own one. He idly wondered if they would make good war horses.

 

“Commander,” he heard. Cullen did not turn around, he recognized the voice.

 

Eduard came up to him. Cullen was pleased to see that Eduard had swapped out that cape and velvet doublet for something just as sensible as his attire. “Hello,” Eduard said simply.

 

“Hello,” Cullen droned. Eduard looked up into that neutral expression. It was like trying to decipher a stone.

 

Eduard sighed. “Let’s get this out of the way,” he said. “I’m sorry about yesterday.”

 

“Are you?” Cullen asked, looking at the man with open suspicion.

 

“Yes, I am,” Eduard replied. “Evelyn had a word with me. And by ‘a word’ I mean she yelled at me till my ears bled. She did highlight one thing, though - that I was mistaken about you, Commander. I had the impression that you would be thrilled by the prospect of a test of arms.”

 

“Yes, you were mistaken,” Cullen’s voice was impassive.

 

“So today, allow me to bring you to all of Evelyn’s old favourite shops,” Eduard said. “And perhaps show you around the city. I also have stories galore about my dear sister - endearing, enraging, embarrassing, take your pick.”

 

Cullen sighed, remembering Evelyn’s request to find out what stupid plan Eduard was cooking up. “Perhaps,” he said. “Let’s head into town, shall we?”

 

Two horses were saddled and Eduard and Cullen rode off down the boulevard. The Vanner was powerful under him. The more he rode it, the more Cullen began to like the breed. Those who saw the horses in the street stood aside. Some bowed. “Are you so famous that the commoners recognize you, Eduard?” Cullen asked as he saw a woman and her family bow as they passed.

 

“Perhaps,” Eduard chuckled. “Actually, it’s the horses. They are our family’s crest for a reason. We are known for breeding the finest.”

 

“So your horse is more famous than you are,” Cullen noted.

 

Eduard laughed. “It’s quite humbling to hear it put like that,” he grinned at Cullen.

 

They rode down to the upper-most terrace of Ostwick as the sun warmed the city. The market street was busy, well-dressed nobles flocking the street along with their servants. The cries of the shopkeepers touting their wares was actually refined, a far cry from Denerim or Kirkwall’s market.

 

They dismounted and left their horses at a stable. “We could have walked,” Cullen said.

 

“This is just the first stop,” Eduard said as they stepped out into the crowd. Cullen kept his hand close to his purse. Such crowds were a favourite haunt of pickpockets. “Did Evie ask you to buy her a surprise?”

 

“As a matter of fact, she did,” Cullen replied.

 

“Yes, she used to ask me the same when she was a girl,” Eduard replied as they walked on. Eduard looked out across the crowd, trying to find a shop. “How much has she told you of how she got to the Circle?” asked Eduard. The way the man spoke it was as if yesterday didn’t happen. Perhaps Eduard wanted it that way, Cullen thought.

 

“Not much,” Cullen replied. “Other than you were the only one to visit her at first.”

 

“Yes, I was.” Eduard said as he crossed the street. The crowd seemed to open up for Cullen, probably due to the grim look on his face. “Ah, there it is,” Eduard pointed. A doll shop opened to the street, porcelain faces gazing out delicately at the passers by.

 

“What do dolls have to do with her magic?” Cullen asked.

 

“She set one ablaze,” Eduard said calmly as they stopped outside the doll shop. “Our parents fight like cats in a sack. She got scared, or perhaps angry. She set her doll on fire, she had no idea what was going on. It was a scandal. A mage in the Trevelyan family? With all their piety and religious fervour and political power and they breed an abomination? That’s what the other families said, anyway.” Eduard looked at the dolls, his blue eyes glinting. “She was dragged off to the Tears after that. They locked her in a room. Ehren and I were not allowed to visit during the scandal’s fallout. When I finally did come, there were scorch marks on the walls.” Eduard’s eyes turned to Cullen’s. “She’s not had a good family life, Commander. As you can see, we’re all messed up. I’d like you to take her away from this.”

 

Cullen’s eyes narrowed.

 

“Maker, you’re mistrustful,” Eduard winced.

 

“And whose fault is it that I don’t find you trustworthy,” Cullen said evenly.

 

“That’s a fair point,” Eduard muttered.

 

“Evelyn is not an abomination, I can hardly imagine there’s still scandal.”

 

“No, she’s not even Evelyn anymore. She’s not a Trevelyan either, she’s completely out of our league,” Eduard replied. “The mage turned Herald of Andraste and leader of the Inquisition? Whose blessed mark sealed the sky and brought low an ancient magister? That makes it worse. The Teyrn wishes to meet her because she’s the Inquisitor. He’s asked for the salon to be brought forward to tomorrow evening. Mother is frantically arranging it.”

 

“So?”

 

“Why do you think he’s so eager?”

 

“Stop dancing and spit it out,” Cullen snapped.

 

Eduard raised an eyebrow. “He’s going to ask her to do something. She’s going to say yes. She’s going to needlessly put herself in danger. And with that arm-”

 

“She can still cast,” Cullen said slightly defensively.

 

“But she shouldn’t have to!” Eduard said firmly. “She should be off with you making little Cullen babies and having the family our parents so woefully failed at providing. Or that’s what I want for her, in any case.”

 

Cullen looked at the man thoughtfully. Eduard caught his glance. “What? Surprised to find I’m not a selfish idiot?”

 

“Not selfish, at least,” Cullen said, turning his eyes back to the dolls.

 

He heard Eduard chuckle. “But still an idiot. Such refreshing honesty,” Eduard grinned.

 

“I take it you suspect that know what the Teyrn is going to ask her?”

 

“I do. I heard you were once a Templar in Kirkwall. Tell me, did you ever have reason to go into Darktown?”

 

“Of course,” Cullen said mildly.

 

“Then perhaps we should leave the dolls behind for a while and find a place to properly talk.”

 

They went to an inn called the Lion down on the second tier of the city. It was a large two storeyed building built at the edge of the wide terrace with a golden lion head above the door. The inn was one of the better appointed inns that Cullen had visited. The rushes on the wooden floor was actually fresh and smelled clean. The common room was lined with polished teak tables and benches, with some booths that overlooked wide wide windows that opened out to the harbour. Everyone wanted to capitalize on the views, it seemed to Cullen. They sat down at one of these booths. “West Hills,” Eduard called out to the bar as they settled down.

 

“Evie and I used to come here to drink when we were younger,” Eduard said, settling back in the booth’s bench. “You’ve seen her drink?”

 

“Of course, it’s her third favourite thing in the world after magic, so she says,” Cullen said, his eyes looking out at the harbour. The view was undeniably captivating.

 

“What’s the first?” Eduard asked as the barkeeper brought two glasses and a bottle of brandy.

 

“Me, apparently,” Cullen said, filling their glasses with brandy. It didn’t hurt to be polite. Eduard chuckled as Cullen leaned back, taking a sip. The brandy was actually excellent. He was drinking way too much on this trip so far. “So, what do you have to tell me?”

 

Eduard sipped his brandy and looked at Cullen. “What do you know about the Warrens, then, Commander?” he asked.

 

“I know that it’s similar to Darktown and not a place guards would willingly patrol, but that’s it.”

 

Eduard snorted. “Our Council of the City Guard is useless,” he said. “Ehren is on it. They can never get anything done. Anyway, yes, you are right on both points. As of late, there have been killings there and no one is willing to do anything about it.”

 

“Go on,” Cullen said.

 

“You don’t seem surprised. I take it Ehren told you about this?”

 

“He mentioned parents killed, children mutilated,” Cullen replied.

 

Eduard sipped his brandy again. “I have been investigating on my own, Commander. Last night, another family was hit, parents slain and the child is barely alive with her tongue cut out. They’ve always targeted poor people, but always families and children. Whichever child survives turns out mute. They cannot say anything to identify the attackers. But last night, they made a mistake with the last girl.” Eduard took out a scrap of parchment from his pocket. Written in charcoal in childish handwriting, was ‘Chntry broters’.

 

“She wrote this?” Cullen asked intently.

 

Eduard nodded. “She claims Chantry brothers were the ones who attacked her. She’s seven and her parents have just been slaughtered. She has no reason to lie.”

 

“Why haven’t you gone to your brother with this? Or the Teyrn?”

 

“Because the Teyrn wants Evelyn to purge the Warrens. If I went to him or Ehren with this evidence implicating the Chantry, it would be too easy to twist it to make it Evelyn’s duty to step in, being Inquisitor. And I know the Templars won’t get involved because there’s no evidence of magic being misused.”

 

“And so you’ve come to me because…”

 

“Because, no offence, you’re nobody here. You don’t have a title that people care about, and you’re working for Evelyn. You’re the help. That gives you freedom. I want to go to the Warrens tonight. I’ve got people watching some of the families who still live there. They will be able to tip me off if any of them are under attack. Chantry Brothers are fairly obvious. If we can find traces of rogue brothers or stop an attack, we can hopefully get to the bottom of these killings.”

 

Cullen took another pull of his brandy. He sat in silence for a while, looking out at the harbour. “This is the reason you instigated that fight?” Cullen asked.

 

Eduard nodded. “I had to know how good you were,” he said. “In case Evelyn were forced into the Warrens. But the Teyrn is pushing for the salon now. We don’t have time to wait this out. We have to stop this before Evelyn is forced to move in.”

 

Cullen drained his glass. “Then we will talk to Evelyn.”

 

“What?!” Eduard exclaimed. “Commander, I don’t think you understand. I’m trying to make is to that Evelyn doesn’t have to know-”

 

“As you so eloquently put it,” Cullen cut in. “I am the help. She is the Inquisitor and so should he part of the decision as to whether she wants to be involved or not. Besides, you are asking me to secretly follow you into a known criminal hive to kill rogue chantry brothers. Tell me you don’t think that’s a stupid thing to keep from your wife?”

 

Eduard grit his teeth in frustration.

 

“Come on,” Cullen said, standing up. “Let’s finish our shopping and head back.”

 

“Perhaps you should go ahead-” Eduard said.

 

“No, Eduard. We shall go together. You do not inspire much trust and your little plan is beginning to go south on you. I’ll not have you head into the Warrens alone to die. So get moving.”

 

“Andreaste’s flaming arsehole,” Eduard grumbled and drained his glass. So that’s where she learned it from, Cullen noted as Eduard stood up.

 

“Commander,” Eduard shot him an annoyed look, “you are to subtlety as a sledgehammer is to bone setting.”

 

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

 

In the end, Cullen didn’t buy Evelyn a doll. He bought her a bottle of West Hills Brandy, because he knew his wife well.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feed the comments monster! It hungers for words! Also, it helps me keep writing, but mainly because the monster hungers.


	4. The Apostate's Chant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen never knew letters could make his blood boil so much until Albrecht sends him mail. Later, Cullen, Evelyn and Eduard descend into the Warrens to save a family from murder. The Cult of the Stilled Tongues finally make their presence known.

 

The conservatory was in the gardens behind the house, a delicate structure of glass and wrought iron. Cullen could see a harpsichord within, set amidst instruments of various sorts within strewn about on carpeted floors. How much money did the Trevelyans have, Cullen wondered as Eduard and he approached the conservatory through the gardens. The glass windows were open to the sunny day. There was the sound  of gentle lute music and singing drifting from within the glass house. Cullen’s steps slowed as he saw Evelyn with her hair over one shoulder, singing by the lutist. It was a song he knew, a song to rally mages to the fray, to fight with their brothers. Marcelline was seated by a small table amongst the instruments, listening to her daughter with a smile on her face.

 

Cullen realized that Eduard had been right. Evelyn had become greater than even the Trevelyans had dreamed, to be able to sing this song in front of her mother. Evelyn’s voice was not as crisp as Maryden’s, but there was an undeniable heart in her song. Eduard nudged Cullen. “You’re staring, Commander,” Eduard pointed out.

 

Cullen cast him an annoyed glance.

 

“Mother cannot know about the Warrens,” Eduard said firmly.

 

“That we can agree on,” Cullen said as he pulled himself together.

 

They walked on and Marcelline saw them and waved them in. She wore no bongrace today, her hair tied back in elaborate braids with a simple pearl at the top of her hairline. Her gown of cream made her seem softer than when she wore black. Evelyn paused in her singing, looking up at them approaching, but Marcelline gestured for her to continue. Evelyn looked back down to her music and continued to sing as Cullen and Eduard entered the conservatory.

 

“Hello, Mother,” Eduard said.

 

“Lady Marcelline,” Cullen bowed slightly.

 

“Cullen,” Marcelline smiled. She seemed to be in a good mood. She nodded her head at Evelyn. “She sings beautifully, does she not?”

 

Cullen could see the blush coming to Evelyn’s cheeks, rising from the neck of her dress.

 

“Truly,” Cullen said, trying and failing to hide his smile as Evelyn refused to meet his eyes.

 

“Do sit down, Cullen,” Marcelline gestured to an empty chair. “No need to stand on ceremony.”

 

“Thank you,” Cullen said, sitting down opposite Marcelline.

 

“Don’t you have anything to do, Eduard?” she asked Eduard.

 

Eduard glanced at Cullen. “I’ll talk to you later, Commander,” he grinned. “Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.”

 

Cullen hid the suspicion from his gaze as he nodded. Eduard waved at Evelyn and headed out the door.

 

Marcelline sat in silence for a while as Evelyn’s song wound to a close. “Again, Evelyn,” she said. “In Orlesian.”

 

“Orlesian?” Evelyn sighed in resignation. “Yes, Mother.” She cleared her throat again and began the song from the beginning, singing the words in Orlesian this time.

 

“She used to sing for all my balls,” Marcelling said warmly. “She had a lovely voice. She tells me it’s ruined by years of yelling and killing things.” There was a hint of disapproval in her voice.

 

Cullen’s quickly turned his laugh into a cough. “Well- I imagine the yelling would spoil a lovely voice,” he said evenly. “Is she to sing for the ball this time?”

 

“Of course,” Marcelline replied. “I expect her to be wonderful. It has been too long since she has joined us.”

 

“It has been a long time since she’s seen you. We missed you at dinner last night, Lady Marcelline,” he said smoothly.

 

“Indeed,” said Marcelline. “There was a matter I had to attend to. We will dine together soon, Cullen. I want to hear everything about my daughter. She is so humble about her accomplishments.”

 

“I could give you a more detailed run through of her accomplishments,” he smiled at Evelyn, who still wasn’t looking at him.

 

“And what of you?” Marcelline asked. “What accomplishments do you have?”

 

Here we go, Cullen thought. “I was a Templar, my Lady. I served in the Circle in Ferelden and later in Kirkwall.”

 

“What was your rank?”

 

“Knight Captain before I became Commander for the Inquisition, my Lady.”

 

“Marcelline would do.”

 

“Thank you, Marcelline.”

 

“Knight Captain does sound rather dashing,” she chuckled. “Evelyn always had a soft spot for dashing men.”

 

Cullen laughed in embarrassment. “I would hardly describe myself as that, Marcelline.”

 

“Why not? Half the women and quite a few men in Halamshiral would agree, Cullen. I’m sure they cry themselves to sleep knowing that it was my daughter that got you in the end. Tell me of how you proposed.”

 

Cullen felt his own blush rising. “It was- I had been thinking about it for a long time. We were talking in the Gazebo if Halamshiral during the Exalted Council. I had this whole plan in my head of how I was going to ask her and what we were going to do afterwards. It just - In the end, it just came out as ‘Marry me.”

 

Marcelline was smiling at him. “What then?”

 

“Then, we found Mother Giselle,” Cullen chuckled, feeling oddly embarrassed at the way Marcelline seemed to be enjoying the tale. “Somehow, Evelyn managed to get her hand on a white dress. We wed under the Gazebo with… Dog as our witness. I promised to the Maker and the most holy Andraste that I would love her till the end of my days. ”

 

Marcelline chuckled. “How very romantic, Commander,” she said. “Truly unexpected from a man with your background.”

 

Cullen blushed.

 

“I hope you’re settling in well, Cullen. Hopefully, you and Evelyn will become a regular guest at our summer balls. She does look happy with you. I hope you can give her the stability she’s lacked in the past.”

 

“I want to make her happy, Marcelline. That’s all that matters to me.”

 

Evelyn’s song ended, she was looking at him with warmth in her eyes and an impish smiled playing at her lips. She set down her music and came over to hug Cullen from behind.

 

“Evie,” he blushed. “We have company.”

 

“Sorry,” she said, smoothing down his hair. She smiled at her mother. “You see, Mother? I do make good choices.”

 

Marcelline chuckled. “I am happy that you do,” she said. “Now, before you both get too cloyingly sweet, leave me to my garden, dears.

 

Evelyn smiled and took Cullen’s hand, the two of them heading inside the house. Once within the house, Evelyn let out a long sigh. “Maker’s tears,” she winced. “I don’t know which is more frightening, facing rampaging Qunari or watching you tell my mother how we eloped.”

 

Cullen chuckled. “Well, that was civil, at least,” he said.

 

“Yes. She’s a sucker for romance. You may have just scored points, Commander. Well played.”

 

“Thank you, though I’ve no idea what I did right,” he admitted. His expression turned serious. “Now we need to find Eduard, he has a lot of talking to do.”

 

Evelyn sighed. “What’s that weasel done now?” she asked testily.

 

“I’ll let him tell you, if he hasn’t run off.”

 

She bit her thumbnail, her eyes thoughtful. Cullen reached up to pull her hand from her mouth. “Stop it,” she said, as she always did. “Let’s head to the stables.”

 

Cullen followed Evelyn through the house, heading to the stables. True enough, they found Eduard there, brushing down his horse. “See? I didn’t run off,” Eduard said when he saw them, setting the brush down. “I hope this builds some trust between us, Commander.”

 

“We’ll see,” Cullen said.

 

“Commander?” Evelyn raised an eyebrow.

 

Eduard winced. “I daren’t call him Cullen, not with that scowl he’s got on his face.”

 

“I am not scowling,” Cullen scowled.

 

“What are you up to Eduard?” Evelyn demanded, holding the stump of her arm with her other hand.

 

“Must I be up to anything?” Eduard blinked.

 

“Just talk, for Maker’s sake,” Cullen sighed impatiently.

 

Eduard cast him a withering look and shook his head. “Fine,” Eduard tsked. They sat down on bales of hay, Evelyn not caring if it tugged at the threads of her silks. She listened to what her brother had to say, a frown on her face.

 

“So you have a lead then,” she said finally.

 

“Yes,” Eduard said. “I was hoping to borrow Cullen to see if we can find anything. Sadly, he’s overwhelmingly honest and wanted to tell you first.”

 

“That’s why I married him, Eduard,” Evelyn sniffed. “We should get ready.”

 

“That’s what I thought,” Cullen murmured, a slight smile playing at her lips.

 

“What?” Eduard exclaimed, rising to his feet. “Andraste’s tits, Evelyn - you are not going!”

 

“There is no need for you to worry,” Evelyn said calmly. “I’m not the little girl I once was. I am the Inquisitor, after all.”

 

Cullen kept a lid on the pride he felt for her then. “It’s no use telling her to stay back, believe me, I tried,” he said to Eduard.

 

“Then why did you insist on telling her?” Eduard demanded.

 

“Because she’s the Inquisitor. The Teyrn can demand all he likes, but if she knows the situation there, her decision to agree or not would be better made. And if you say we can possibly solve this situation tonight, wouldn’t that shut the Committee of the City Guard and the Teyrn up before they could even move? Imagine how it would benefit the Inquisition and the Trevelyans to point out that the threat has been eliminated before even the officials could react?”

 

Eduard looked speculatively at Cullen, a smile playing at his lips. “That sort of thinking is almost Orlesian,” he said, sounding slightly impressed.

 

“Then tonight you’ll lead us into the Warrens, Eduard,” Evelyn said, her eyes glowing. She paused. “We have messenger birds, do we not?”

 

“On board the ship,” Cullen replied.

 

“Then if need be, we’ll get word to Cassandra. If need be. I really wish I could have one trip where I don’t have to kill anything.”

 

“The world brings its problems to your feet, Evelyn,” Eduard said extravagantly. “Fine then. I know he can flight and so can I. I think you’ll be safe.”

 

Evelyn just smiled. “How nice of you, brother dearest. But please, don’t worry. I’ll be fine with the both of you with me.” Cullen was instantly suspicious of her demure attitude.

 

She stood up and brushed the straw from her dress.  “Meet me at the Lion tonight,” Eduard said as he too stood. He started to head out of the stables.

 

“Eduard,” Evelyn called. Eduard paused to look at her over his shoulder. “Why are you doing this?”

 

He smirked slightly. “Someone has to, Evelyn,” he simply said and headed out into the sunlight. There was a pause as the light claimed him.

 

Cullen broke the spell. “Is he always so melodramatic?” Cullen asked.

 

Evelyn grinned at him. “Of course, it’s part of his charm.”

 

“I’ll take your word for it.”

 

“I’m surprised you didn’t stop me from finding another fight,” said Evelyn seriously.

 

“I’ve been trying since Mia’s farm, it hasn’t been working,” he shrugged. “I think this is serious, Evelyn. I think he’s serious about stopping this. I would prefer your brother not die.”

 

“That would ruin the holiday,” Evelyn said seriously, her hand on her hip. “Well, it does look like I’ll get to shoot lightning at fools here as well. I’ll be happier if those fools were the ones cutting out the tongues of children.”

 

“How did Eduard get acquainted with the underworld here anyway?”

 

“He got involved with bad company,” Evelyn said. “Some debts he paid off by working with the Carta. He hasn’t always been very forthcoming with this information. I don’t think Ehren or Mother knows about this. They just think he carouses his days away.”

 

“Then we should prepare,” he said quietly as they walked back towards their quarters. “We’ll whatever elixirs we have left from Branson. I don’t think Dog would be good at stealth. You may need to leave the dragon-scale behind.”

 

“Of course,” Evelyn smiled faintly, amusement in her eyes. “Anything else, Commander?”

 

“I’ll probably have to take the shine off the armour,” Cullen winced. “It’s going to take me ages to polish it up again.”

 

“I could just scorch it for you.”

 

“Maker forbid!”

 

When they returned to their room, Cullen was surprised to see Bando waiting patiently for them. “Mistress, Master Cullen,” Bando said, looking slightly worried. “You have gifts.” Evelyn stopped, her face paling slightly. “From, well, from Lord Albrecht.”

 

“Lord?” Cullen asked, his jaw clenching barely preceptibly.

 

“His Aunt has passed the title on to him. He recently took over her position as Arl,” Bando supplied.

 

“Really.” Cullen’s voice was flat as Evelyn walked ahead and opened the door. There, set upon the bed, was a mage’s staff. Cullen glared at it, but Evelyn was entranced. She picked up the staff which was delicate and of Tervinter make, topped with a figure of Andraste in flames. Cullen felt a knot of irritation tighten within him. "Tell me," Cullen said evenly, his voice tightly controlled. "When will we be able to meet this illustrious Lord Albrecht?"

 

"I believe he has been invited to the salon tomorrow night," Bando replied politely. Cullen saw Evelyn tense when she heard this, the staff in her hand.

 

"Good," Cullen said.

 

"There is also a letter for you, Master Cullen," Bando said a bit nervously and handed Cullen a folded parchment.

 

"Thank you, Bando."

 

The butler bowed and made his exit. Cullen walked over to the Evelyn. The staff clicked and retracted to the size of a hand axe. "Maker!" she exclaimed in surprised delight.

 

"It's very nice," Cullen said mildly as he opened the parchment. "Dear Commander Rutherford," he read aloud. "Through the uncaring hand of fate, we find ourselves once again at odds. I hope to smooth things over with you amicably at the salon. Yours in the Maker, Arl Albrecht du Grace."

 

Evelyn looked at him guiltily. "Cullen-"

 

"Don't be worried. It's a useful gift. You clearly like it." He crushed the parchment and tossed it into into a bin. His expression was like stone as he set the bottle of brandy on the mantlepiece.

 

Evelyn sighed. "I'm being stupid," she said, setting the staff down. "I should return it."

 

"Why?" Cullen asked, pulling off his leather vest. He was being petulant and stupid but he couldn’t stop himself. Albrecht clearly knew about their marriage. Evidently, the man wasn’t going to let it rest. Smooth things over amicably my arse, Cullen thought bitterly.

 

Evelyn gave him a look of resignation. "I'm going to be paying for keeping silent about Albrecht for a while, aren't I?"

 

"I'm haven't a clue what you mean." He pulled out his armour, setting the pieces out on the carpet as he sat down cross-legged in the middle. He reached for his scouring pad to rub the shine off the metal. The pad flew out of his reach into Evelyn’s hand. She sauntered over to him and sat down on the carpet with him, leaning on her good arm. He saw that the staff had been set aside on a table.

 

"Cullen," she said, that chesty voice of hers made even his name sound alluring. "Could you help me open that cork before you begin? I think I'd like some brandy."

 

++++

 

The Lion was crowded when Evelyn and Cullen arrived. Though the shine on his armour had been dulled all afternoon, Cullen knew knew he still stood out when quite a few eyes turned to look at him appraisingly as he stepped into the glow of the lamps in the Lion's common room. Evelyn hovered near him, wearing breeches and a slashed sleeved doublet belted at the waist with a leather belt, to which her hilt was clasped. She looked more like a tom boy merchant's daughter than the Inquisitor.

 

There were young ladies with low-cut bodices sitting amongst the patrons as a lutist played a jaunty tune. Cullen knew what those women worked as. One came up to them. She was a petite, curvaceous elven woman who walked with a sultry gait. Her green eyes were bright as she looked him over, lamp light making the soft mounds of her ample bosom glow amidst the lace of her bodice.

 

Evelyn stepped on his foot and Cullen realized he was staring.

 

"Master Stanton," the woman purred. "Welcome. Your room is ready. As am I."

 

"What?" Cullen exclaimed. He could literally feel the cold frost from Evelyn.

 

"Don't be upset, Lady, there is plenty to go around," said the woman as she sidled up between them both. She took Evelyn’s arm in hers as Cullen’s mind began to fill with some fascinating images. He pushed them from his thoughts. What didn’t help was that the elf’s arm slipped around his waist as well, as did half the side of her. Cullen tried to put some respectful distance between them. “This way, ser,” the elf purred and led them away from the door of the common room. Evelyn said nothing, her gaze as cold as winter.

 

The elf led them down a corridor to a room at the end. The place smelled cloyingly of rose petals and spent love. As the elf slipped her hand from Cullen’s waist, he felt her fingers brush up against his bottom quite deliberately. “Maker,” he breathed, blushing furiously, stepping away from the elf. Evelyn glared at him.

 

The elf giggled as she opened the door and let them in. Within was a four-postered double bed set beside a lit fireplace. A variety of ropes hung from the walls in delicate patterns, though it was painfully obvious what they were for.

 

The elf shut the door behind her and locked it after they stepped into the room. “Pity we’re not here to play,” she sighed, eyeing Cullen brazenly as he tried to ignore her gaze, his face like a thundercloud. She went to a rope and pulled on it. Something in the walls clanked softly and a panel opened beside the fireplace. “Eduard,” called the elf.

 

“Finally,” Eduard emerged from the darkness beyond the panel. He was wearing dark gray leather with little sheen. His tunic was coloured so dark a green it looked almost black. Two daggers were at his back and pouch of throwing knives at his waist. “Leave them alone, Avera,” he grinned at the elf. “They’re not interested, believe me.”

 

“That only makes it more rewarding, you know,” the elf sighed, walking to the bed and laying down languidly. “You surely don’t need both of them, right? Couldn’t one stay?”

 

“Just watch the door, Avera, we’ll be back before morning,” Eduard said, gesturing for them to follow him. He stepped into the darkness beyond the panel.

 

“I’ll be thinking of you, Master Stanton,” Avera purred, her hand reaching between her legs.

 

Cullen said nothing and followed Eduard, glad for the darkness that hid his burning blush. The panel slid shut, darkness falling around them as a moan was cut off from hearing.

 

“She likes you,” Evelyn’s voice cut through the darkness as she stood next to him.

 

“I think- that is- She likes everyone!” Cullen replied, clearing his throat.

 

“That’s true,” Eduard replied. There was the sound of grinding powder in the darkness. “She’s only fifteen, but she’s very good at her job.”

 

“Just so you know,” Evelyn spoke as Cullen felt her hand on his bottom. “I don’t share.”

 

“Maker’s breath! I wasn’t even considering.”

 

“You should,” Eduard chuckled. “Avera can send both of you to the Maker’s arms and back, believe me. Just a thought.” Cullen could hear the grin in the man’s voice. He really wanted to hit Eduard so badly. It was only his iron will that made him resisted the urge to do so. A blue glow filled the area. Eduard stood up, a small bowl in his hand was glowing blue, lighting the narrow passage’s earthen walls. The path led downwards.

 

“What’s that light?” Evelyn asked curiously, her hand slipping from Cullen’s body.

 

“It’s a deep mushroom extract,” Eduard said as he led them through the passage. “It glows when ground and mixed with certain compounds.”

 

“I’ve never seen that before,” Evelyn said.

 

“I doubt you would, I haven’t given anyone the recipe.” The passageway led downwards into the earth. The air was dry, until the smell began to change. It was putrid, the smell of sewers. Evelyn wrinkled her nose but said nothing as they walked on.

 

“I can see why fire would be a bad idea,” Cullen said, trying to keep his hands and shoulders off the wall as they walked through what he only wanted to think of as muck.

 

“Exactly,” said Eduard. They reached a ladder cut into the wall itself. He bit the edge of the bowl and started to climb up.  They emerged in a fetid basement which was no different from the sewer. There were rotting crates upon plain earth floors here. “This is very much like Darktown,” Cullen muttered as he climbed out of the trap door. Eduard set the glowing bowl in the recess of the ladder and shut the trap door. He kicked some dirt over it.

 

“It’s fragrant,” Evelyn sniffed.

 

“We’ll take the Highwalks,” Eduard said. The Warrens were so similar to Darktown that Cullen felt like he was in Kirkwall for a moment. They emerged from the basement into a stairwell that revealed the Warrens - a massive cavern within the cliff. The smell was the same as Darktown- chokedamp and a miasma of sewage peppered with the smell of rotting corpses. It was best for the eyes not to linger on the mounds of trash piled high in the corners of the corridor that could be called a street. No one was about.

 

“Is that… a hand?” Evelyn breathed.

 

“They discard bodies in places like this,” Cullen said. “Best not to look.”

 

Evelyn nodded, her expression grim. Criss-crossing the street above were precarious walkways made of wood anchored to the wall with ropes. They did not inspire much confidence, but Eduard was already climbing a ladder leading to one of them. The Highwalk let them breathe a little easier, taking them out of the miasma below. There were doorways that opened to this elevated walkway, houses cut directly into the rock walls of the cliffs. Other houses were erected with mud brick and earth, rising two or even three storeys high. They were roofed over despite the fact that it would never ever rain here. All the buildings were connected by Highwalks. The place glowed blue with the light of deep mushrooms that hung from the damp walls and cavern roof.

 

Eduard led them confidently through the maze of walkways, his footfalls quiet compared to Evelyn or Cullen’s. He eventually climbed another ladder leaning against a wall. It brought them to a rooftop of one of the taller buildings, the entire subterranean city below them.

 

“Now, we wait,” Eduard said. Cullen went to the side of the building and looked over. He realized that the next building was near enough to jump to, with space being so cramped. Across the rooftops, he saw figures watching the streets as well. “My lookouts,” Eduard explained.

 

“Interesting that you got so many to help a noble,” Cullen said mildly. “I don’t expect many would be willing to give you the time of day here - or they’d be more inclined to rob you blind.”

 

“Well, maybe it’s my charm,” Eduard shrugged.

 

“You’re not that charming, brother,” Evelyn said thoughtfully. “I wonder if you have friends who help you.”

 

Eduard grinned at her. “I have lots of friends.”

 

Cullen rolled his eyes. The day Eduard gave a straight answer would be the day the world ended. There was a shrill whistle then, barely on the edge of hearing. Eduard turned around.

 

“There,” Evelyn said, pointing at a waving figure on a roof three streets away. “Your signal?” she asked Eduard.

 

“Yes-” Eduard began, but Evelyn was already running off across the rooftops, bounding like a gazelle.

 

Eduard glanced at Cullen in surprise. Cullen just smirked. “You’ll get used to that,” he said, running after Evelyn. Jumping rooftops and streets in armour was no joke, Cullen was breathing hard when he reached Evelyn’s side with Eduard.

 

“Your little friend ran off,” Evelyn whispered as she crouched behind the crumbling parapet of the roof. Eduard joined her, poking his head over the side of the building. They were two storeys above the street now. Cullen checked the back alley of the building, moving to keep the sound of his armour as soft as possible. Three robed figures were in the back of the alley. Cullen couldn’t make out what they were doing, their bodies clustered over something.

 

Cullen crouch-walked over to Evelyn and Eduard. “How many guards in the front?” Cullen asked tersely.

 

“One, it appears. Wearing Chantry robes,’ Eduard replied.

 

“Three in back,” Cullen said. “Eduard, take down the one in the front; Evelyn, cover him. I’ll drop down on the ones in the back.”

 

Eduard unwrapped something from his wrist, a length of thin chain. He handed one end to Cullen. “Stand at the other end and hold on to this. When I say jump, just jump, the chain will slow your fall.”

 

Cullen saw that the other end of the chain wasn’t attached to anything. Eduard saw his eyes and smiled faintly. “Have faith, Commander,” he smiled. Cullen said nothing, taking the other end of the chain. He moved to the back of the house and saw Eduard lean over the side, throwing the other end of the chain down, a dagger glinting as it drew the chain downwards. “Jump!” Eduard snapped as the sound of a blade striking bone was heard. Cullen jumped as a flash of green enveloped him.

 

The men looked up in surprise as the chain caught Cullen, turning his fall into a swing. His foot caught a figure in the face, sending him sprawling across the ground. The other figures scattered, revealing a unconcious form of a little boy. Cullen’s knee hit the wall. He grunted, feeling blades on his shield still strapped to his back. He drew his sword, slashing at a figure to his right, he felt the blade hit armour under those robes.

 

Cullen rolled out of the way just as a warhammer smashed down on the ground beside him, spraying the child with rocks. Cullen drew his shield, coming to his feet in the fetid alley. The men were in Chantry robes but wielding two hand-axes, a warhammer and a sword. They rushed him, leaving the child alone on the ground.

 

Cullen ducked the warhammer’s heavy swing again. He deflected the axe strikes and parried the sword’s slash with his own. He gave ground. The axe-wielder was drawn into the attack. Cullen blocked a strike to his left. A feint to his right- He felt the other axe blade hit his sword. There was a flash from an open window above the child’s prone figure. A fireball caught his shield. Cullen blocked, the blast deflecting onto the axe-wielder. Screams filled the alley as the attacker ran screaming down the alley like a comet.

 

He saw the hammer rise above him and ducked out of the way, the hammer smashing into a wall. Cullen flanked the heavy warrior and stabbed into the man’s side. His sword hit true, sliding into the gaps in his armour and into his body. A figure moved in the corner of his eye. He smashed back with his shield, catching the swordsman’s wild stab.

 

He could see lightning flashing within the house. Cullen pulled his blade from the burly warrior and stabbed at the staggering swordsman. The swordsman stabbed wildly at him, the blade catching Cullen’s pauldron. Something flashed violet in the swordsman’s eyes. Cullen felt magic fill the air.

 

He knocked the swordsman out with the pommel of his sword. A hand grabbed his neck. Cullen knocked his shield into the elbow of the heavy warrior, hearing bone break and the man scream. He stabbed again, his sword sinking into the man’s eye.

 

The huge body slumped down heavily, the hammer thudding to the ground. Cullen set his foot on the man’s shoulder to kick him off his sword. He looked up at the sound of hissing. The swordsman was standing, twitching in the alley, his face smoking, his eyes bulging wildly, tearing with blood.

 

Cullen knew the spell. He kicked the warrrior off his sword and ran to the child as the hissing rose. There was an explosion - burning chunks of flesh spattered the walls and bone speared the ground like shrapnel. They hit Cullen’s shield as he crouched over the prone figure of the child. The smell was putrid - acid and burning flesh and boiling blood. Cullen saw a figure in the window above him, making a wild attempt to climb through. “Stop him!” Evelyn’s voice called. His shield hit the man satisfyingly, sending him tumbling into the house.

 

Cullen looked in the window, seeing Evelyn standing in the middle of a living room, scorch marks around her. Eduard’s daggers were bloody as he rushed to the fallen man. Cullen saw that it was an apostate.

 

“Are you alright?” Evelyn asked worriedly.

 

“Yes,” Cullen said. “You?”

 

“Of course,” Evelyn grinned. Cullen shook his head in resignation as he turned to look at the boy. The boy was unconcious. Cullen checked the child’s mouth and sighed in relief. The child seemed to be unharmed. He sheathed his sword and lifted the boy in his arms. With some effort, he climbed through the window, his knee stinging like blazes.

 

Inside the wrecked house, Eduard was tying up the apostate. Two bodies lay around the dining table.

 

“What about the boy’s parents?” asked Cullen.

 

Evelyn shook her head. “We were too late,” she said sadly, sheathing her hilt. “Is he-”

 

“No, he’s just knocked out,” Cullen assured her.

 

“I hope you didn’t kill him,” Eduard muttered, shaking the apostate awake. The apostate had his hands bound behind his back and his feet strung together. Eduard resorted to slapping the apostate across the face.

 

The apostate groaned. He was wearing chantry robes, the drawn hood moving as he stirred, shaking himself awake. Evelyn pushed past Cullen and Eduard and brought her foot down hard on the man’s neck.

 

“This is where you start talking,” Evelyn snarled as she prone apostate gagged under her foot. Evelyn released the pressure slightly. The apostate glared up at her.

 

Eduard leaned down to cut away the Chantry robe, revealing light leather armour underneath. “I don’t recall the Chantry being too keen on armoured apostate brothers,” he drawled.

 

“For what you have done, the Maker’s wrath will come upon you!” the apostate growled, spitting blood and teeth as he spoke.

 

“Why are you cutting out tongues?” Evelyn demanded.

 

The apostate spat blood at her. Evelyn growled and grabbed Eduard’s dagger. It stabbed into the dirt floor beside the apostate’s head. The apostate screamed as she tore the hood away and pressed the dagger to the top of his ear. “You’ll tell me or the Maker will have to shout for you to hear him,” she snarled. Cullen was shocked, but kept a lid on it. Eduard was staring at his sister, a look of horror in his blue eyes.

 

The apostate grunted, trying to move from under Evelyn’s boot. She drew the knife down further, drawing blood from the ear. The apostate screamed. “You bitch!” he cried. “You will pay - you who stop us - We cleanse the unclean! We render that heresy unspoken which cannot be said! You… you will not stop our Chant of the Stilled Tongue.”

 

“Maker’s balls,” Evelyn snarled. “Where is your leader?”

 

“Where you cannot find her- she sings and dances where none can follow, behind doors no key can open! In the long hours of the night - when hope has abandoned me, I can see your stars and know your light remains!”

 

As he screamed, his eyes flashed violet and bulged, weeping tears of blood. His body began to spasm violently.

 

“Get back!” Cullen shouted, moving without thought. He grabbed Evelyn around the waist and pulled her away. The explosion rocked the house, pieces of flesh and bone smoking on the walls. Cullen felt his ear singed, the sound of the blast ringing in his ears, drowning out all noise and thought. He shook his head and opened his eyes. Evelyn was shielded from the blast by the shield on his back and his body. Her eyes were warm as she returned his gaze.

 

“That I didn’t see that coming,” Eduard grunted from behind a smoking upturned table. “What did he do?”

 

“The spell is called Walking Bomb,” Evelyn said clinically, handing Eduard’s dagger back to him. “He blew himself up.”

 

“That blowing himself up part I noticed,” Eduard grunted, making effort not to step on any smouldering piles of flesh.

 

“It’s a cult,” Evelyn said seriously, her eyes hard. “They’re cutting tongues out before the children can speak heresy. Eduard, can you find their headquarters?”

 

“One of them took off on fire,” Cullen said.

 

Eduard nodded. “I’ll follow him. You two will slow me down. Get back to the inn.” Eduard ran, jumping nimbly out the back window and vanishing down the alley.

 

“Is that alright?” Cullen asked Evelyn.

 

“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” she said, looking thoughtfully at the window. “Wait here,” she murmured, heading out the window as well. She returned with bundles of blood-smeared cloth tucked into her belt. “Let’s go.”

 

They stepped out into the street, the smell of chokedamp filling their noses. Cullen looked up at the wall of the house. A body hung against the wall, a dagger embedded deeply into its head. It was attached to the chain, scored and stuck deeply into the earthen parapet above. So that was the weight that slowed down his fall. Eduard wasn’t a total idiot, it seemed.

 

They made their way back to the Lion, following the route they had taken across the Highwalks. In the tunnel, Evelyn held the bowl of glowing deathroot. “What will we do with the boy?” Cullen asked as he carried the unconscious boy in his arms.

 

“Let’s ask Bando for help,” Evelyn said seriously. “He can keep a secret. This Chant of the Stilled Tongue… we’re not leaving till we purge every last one of them.”

 

Cullen nodded silently. Sometimes Evelyn was easy to predict. She would not turn her back on those she could help. And for that, he could not turn his back on her. They would stay to see this through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any story ideas? Any story suspicions? Any request for raunchy sex scenes? (Seriously, I have no idea if sex scenes would even help my story.) Comments?


	5. Cullen Meets the Fiancé

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen finally meets Albrecht. It does not go well. Inevitably, to keep Evelyn, Cullen finds that he must play the Game whether he likes it or not.

Bando leaned over the boy, a gentle hand laying the cool linen cloth on the boy’s forehead. “He’s running a fever,” Bando said quietly, his voice gentle and his expression soft in the dim firelight of his quarters. “We should let him rest. I’ve asked Maria to sit in with him when she comes in tomorrow. She’ll take care of him. I will let you know when he awakes, Mistress.”

Evelyn nodded. It was nearly dawn now, the night beginning to face as the gulls began their morning calls above the city. “We should get cleaned,” Evelyn said. Cullen saw her turn to look at him. His eyes were grainy from lack of sleep, but that wasn’t going to slow him down. He stood with his arms crossed, looking thoughtfully at the boy, now an orphan. He felt a pang of pity in his heart. From what he learned fighting the Venatori, Cullen knew that Cults were not cheap to run. There were rituals to seduce the weak of mind, rituals required paraphernalia, a place to hold them in. These needed money to be obtained. He couldn’t imagine a Cult rising up in the depths of the Warrens on the coin of the poor alone.

Evelyn touched his shoulder. “Cullen?” he heard.

He blinked. “What?” he snapped, pulled from his thoughts.

“I said, let’s go bathe. We smell horrible,” Evelyn repeated.

“Oh, of course,” Cullen murmured. “Thank you for helping us, Bando.”

Bando nodded as they left the room. “And you need sleep.” Evelyn took his hand, heading back through the silent house to their room.

“I’m fine,” he insisted.

“Yes, dear,” Evelyn said mildly. Cullen knew that tone of voice. Eventually, Cullen did sleep. After their bath and as much cleaning of his armour as he could manage, he collapsed in bed, laying face down above the covers. His loose tunic fell in disarray as he fell into bed, exposing his back. He felt Evelyn climb into bed as well, her breasts soft as she leaned against him. He thought of Avera and felt a pang of guilt. Thinking and doing were two different things. Besides, he told himself, Evelyn brought him to the Maker’s arms and back all the time. He smiled faintly.

“Still feeling possessive?” he asked her playfully, murmuring into the pillow, his mind on the edge of sleep.

“Maybe,” she purred, nipping his earlobe. “But I’ll stake my claim another tim-”

Her words were cut off by Cullen’s gentle snore.

He blinked awake to the sound of voices in the room. He groaned and sat up, his head feeling like it was stuffed full of straw. He had been too tired to even dream, which was a blessing. He sat up, rubbing his eyes. He saw Eduard in the room, sitting opposite Evelyn in the balcony. The man was wearing a clean doublet and breeches, as was Evelyn. “There’s tea on the bedside table, love,” Evelyn said to him. “Careful, it’s-”

Cullen exclaimed and pulled his hand away from the hot cup, shaking the heat from his fingers.

“-Hot,” Evelyn sighed. Cullen picked up the teacup by its handle properly this time.

He stood up and went to the balcony, blowing on the tea to cool it. The fresh air and sunshine helped to wake him up a bit. “Report,” he said automatically, still half asleep.

Cullen heard Evelyn laughing as Eduard raised an eyebrow at him.

“I mean, hello, Eduard. I’m pleased to see you survived. Now what have you find out?” Cullen sighed.

“I tracked down our burning friend.” Eduard said, watching Cullen sit down at the table. “He ran towards a certain district in the Warrens, close to the Piers. Then, unfortunately, he died. I’ll have people search the area tonight. They may be able to uncover anything strange thereabouts. We’ll find out more once the boy awakes. Bando is hovering over him like a mother hen when he’s not rushing about preparing for the salon.”

“Did you throw the fireball?” Cullen asked Evelyn curiously.

“No, I don’t chuck spells when you’re in the way. I might singe that beautiful hair.”

Cullen’s hand went to his head to smooth down his hair. Blast, it was a mess.

“Either way, thank you for coming with me,” Eduard said. “That apostate was a surprise, I must admit. We may be able to get the Templars involved after all.”

“You can count on the Teyrn sending them in after Evelyn, should news of our encounter last night spread,” Cullen pointed out.

Eduard sighed. “I’m beginning to worry less and less of her,” he said. “I did not expect to see my little sister threaten to cut a man’s ear off.”

“I wasn’t seriously going to,” Evelyn said. “Not if he told us what we needed to hear.”

“And I did not expect you to stick a man in the ribs through mail,” Eduard said to Cullen.

“It ruined the edge of my sword,” Cullen complained, sipping his tea.

“I know, mail can be terrible on the blade. Though your blade was evidently still sharp enough for stabbing him in the eye,” Eduard grinned.

“That was stupid. I nearly got boiling blood to the face,” Cullen said. “Stabs to the head always end up taking a while to get your sword out.”

“I love how you can talk about this while calmly sipping a cup of tea,” Evelyn chuckled. “Are you trying to turn me on, Commander? It’s working.”

Eduard made a disgusted noise as Cullen blushed into his teacup. “I should leave before I see things I don’t want to see,” he said. “I’ll update you after your salon tonight.”

Cullen groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yes, that’s the other thing we have to deal with,” Evelyn said as Eduard left. “You want something stronger than tea?”

“Do you really want me to talk to Albrecht after drinking?”

“Hm. Good point. Stabbing Arls in the eye with swords is generally frowned upon at salons, Cullen.”

“I know, I wasn’t going to do that.”

“Good.”

“Maybe have him quartered,” he mused thoughtfully, looking out over the city. “You’ve got horses.”

“Maker,” Evelyn sighed heavily. “I’ll get your clothes ready.”

++++

Cullen could hear the music from the salon as they walked down the corridor. He had opted for a doublet of simple dark red and breeches. He’d be damned if he ever wore those ridiculous pantaloons that Marcelline had included in the wardrobe. Evelyn had insisted he wear a badge of the Inquisition pinned to the his sash belt. He didn’t argue. There may be arguments after the salon, he knew. Best not to start yelling too early.

Evelyn herself wore a comfortable coat and breeches with delicately made boots. Odd. She looked more dressed for battle than for a salon. A servant by the salon door opened it when they approached. Bando was within. He announced them as they stopped at the door. “Lady Inquisitor Evelyn Aurelie Trevelyan, Shepherd of the Wayward Order Templar, Purge of the Heretics, Vanquisher of the Rebel Mages of Ferelden and the Elder One Corypheus, Champion of the Blessed Andraste herself.”

“Laying it on a little thick,” Evelyn said without changing her smile. Bando looked up at her with eyes twinkling.

“Ser Cullen Stanton Rutherford of Honnleath,” he went on. “Commander of the Forces of the Inquisition, Former Knight Captain of Kirkwall, Vanguard of the Siege of Adamant and the Battle of the Arbor Wilds, Shield of Halamshiral against the Qun.”

“Maker,” Cullen muttered. The room quietened at the mention of all their titles. Cullen saw eyes looking at them appraisingly as they entered. Marcelline gesturing for them to join her by the fireplace. There, she stood with a young man, younger than even Evelyn. He looked somewhat awed to see them. “Teyrn Arrington,” Evelyn bowed. Cullen followed suit. So the Teyrn was a young man - hopefully not as gullible as he looked.

“My Lady Inquisitor,” the young Teyrn Arrington bowed. His eyes practically glowed with admiration. “It is an honour to meet you at last. I’ve been looking forward to it.” Cullen didn’t even get a look. The boy was clearly in awe of Evelyn.

Evelyn smiled warmly at the Teyrn, unleashing the full charm of her smile. “My lord is too kind,” she said. “A lot of that sounds grander than it actually is.”

“Oh no! It really isn’t!” Arrington replied. “I’ve heard all the stories. My Seneschal keeps me well informed. I understand you saved Halamshiral and the Palace of Denerim from a Qunari plot and even fought off demons in the Brescillian Forest.”

Evelyn looked slightly surprised. “My lord is well informed indeed,” she said.

“Albrecht’s very good!” Arrington beamed. Cullen swore inside. Albrecht was Seneschal to the Teyrn? Well, so what, a part of him rebelled. Arrington was waving to a man. Cullen set eyes on Albrecht for the first time. The man was tall in stature, almost as tall as Cullen. His hair was a pale blonde and slicked back into a low ponytail, his eyes a piercing gray. Cullen turned his glance to Evelyn’s face, seeing her eyes widen slightly. How long had it been since she had actually seen Albrecht?

The man walked over, his black doublet trimmed in gold made him a more imposing figure than the Teyrn himself.

“This is Albrecht, my Seneschal,” said Arrington. Albrecht bowed and kissed Evelyn’s hand, charm oozing off him. Like chokedamp, Cullen thought.

“Evelyn,” he said, his voice honeyed.

“Albrecht,” Evelyn said, keeping her voice steady. “You’ve certainly... changed since we last met.”

“I was young, Evelyn. I did not leave the best of impressions when you sailed for the Conclave.” His hand lingered on Evelyn’s. Evelyn pulled it away. Cullen realized his grip on her arm had tightened.

Marcelline stepped in smoothly. “Perhaps we could introduce Evelyn to the guests, my Lord Arrington,” she said, her golden fan glinting in the firelight.

“Of course!” Arrington said, taking Evelyn’s arm. Evelyn seemed relieved. “My Lady Inquisitor, I must introduce you to everyone!”

Evelyn was swept away. Cullen caught her warning glance at him over her shoulder. “My dear Commander,” Cullen heard and groaned inwardly. Albrecht walked up to him, holding his champagne flute in elegant fingers.

“Lord Du Grace,” he forced a smile at the man.

“It is a pleasure that we should meet face to face,” Albrecht said. “Your exploits along with Evelyn’s are… legendary. Did you truly strike down your Knight Commander in Kirkwall?”

“I did,” Cullen said evenly. He wasn’t even going to explain himself. Albrecht clearly knew the circumstances to have brought it up. Cullen knew the man was attempting to wind him up.

“And you admit it so matter of factly,” Albrecht chuckled. “You do not regret your actions?”

“I regret the circumstances that brought us to that point, my Lord,” Cullen said plainly.

“That I can understand, Commander,” Albrecht drawled. “Just as I regret the circumstances that brought you and I to this point, as well.”

“Do you, Lord Du Grace?” A servant offered Cullen a flute of champagne. Cullen gratefully took one.

“Of course,” Albrecht said mildly. “Evelyn and I had a fight before she left. I regret that I could not make amends face to face. And then the whole fiasco with the Inquisition’s soldiers on my lands - under your orders, I might add.”

“It was necessary, my Lord,” Cullen sipped the champagne. “I hope we can put the past behind us and move on. Amicably, as it were.”

“The situation with the soldiers, of course. I would gladly see that episode forgotten. But the situation with Evelyn, I afraid I cannot let that pass unchallenged.”

Cullen’s eyes found Evelyn in the crowd, standing with her mother and the Teyrn as they mingled with the other guests. “Unchallenged?” he asked Albrecht calmly, his voice as polite as ever save for the steel in his eyes.

“Evelyn has broken an agreement between our families, as it were,” Albrecht said calmly. “Initially, I did not want it pursued. But now that I see her, I have changed my mind.”

“That’s regrettable,” Cullen murmured. “How do you intend to win her over? With baubles?”

Albrecht laughed. “I do not expect that you would see the value in the gift, Commander,” he drawled. “But I would be a poor rival if I were to reveal all my cards. This is a game of Wicked Grace, Commander, and there is our prize.”

“Is that what you think of her?”

“I do not know how they do things in Ferelden, Commander Cullen,” Albrecht went on. “But here in Ostwick, we do not recognize the legitimacy of such informal arrangements like eloping. There was no proper ceremony, not witnesses. To us, Evelyn is still… available. And you are simply a soldier of questionable morals to beguile a woman far too young for you.”

In Cullen’s mind, four horses were pulling Albrecht apart. “Would you like the High Chancellor of the Divine to write us a note, my lord?”

Albrecht cast him an amused glance. “May the best man win, Commander.”

“I think he already did, Albrecht,” Cullen shot back, a smirk playing at his lips. “It may take a while for you to see it, however. Good evening.”

Cullen walked away, hearing Albrecht’s annoying chuckle behind him. Four horses pulling Albrecht apart over a bed of burning spikes, Cullen mused as red mists filled his mind. He moved to extract himself to the balcony for a breath of fresh air, but inevitably, as in Halamshiral, some young ladies came up to talk to him.

Cullen groaned inwardly and endured the small talk until his champagne ran dry. He didn’t take any more. Already the headache was setting in, his temple throbbing. Blasted Albrecht! The man annoyed him. The young women were also annoying, but he knew how to be polite. He politely refused dances, politely refused to tell them when he was born or where, politely refused their invitations to attend their own salons. He stood there with his arms crossed, enduring the whole affair.

“Is it true you… eloped with the Inquisitor?” one of them asked breathlessly, looking up at him with vapid eyes.

“How-” Cullen began, blinking as his mind was brought back to the present with that sudden question.

“It’s terribly romantic!”

“I wonder how that private news came to be known,” Cullen said tactfully.

“It’s known in the palace, everyone’s talking about it,” she giggled. “I wonder if it counts if you’ve eloped. It probably doesn’t, Commander. It’s something for you to think about.” She playfully touched his arm.

“Cullen,” Evelyn smiled, coming up to him. Cullen smiled in gratitude. “I see you’ve met my cousin Amelie.”

“Your…” Cullen blinked.

“I introduced myself earlier, Commander,” the young woman frowned.

“I’m sorry - I must have… drifted.”

“Shall we head to the balcony, love?” Evelyn said, hugging his arm. She case Amelie a smile which Amelie did not return. “Excuse us, Amelie. Ladies.”

“My lady,” Cullen said politely as he walked off with Evelyn.

The night air was as invigorating as stepping into a pool, after the smoky warmth of the salon. “Andraste preserve me,” Cullen sighed as they stepped out onto the balcony.

“At least the champagne is good,” Evelyn said, leaning on the parapet.

“I can’t take anymore,” Cullen admitted, rubbing at a temple.

“Headaches?” Evelyn asked.

“I’m not sure if it’s the withdrawal or the conversation,” Cullen sniffed. “Probably both.”

“So…” Evelyn said slowly, her fingers tapping on the marble of the parapet. “How’s… Albrecht?”

Cullen snorted.

“That bad?”

“Are you going to talk to him?” Cullen asked.

“I… can’t,” Evelyn said awkwardly. “I need to smooth things over with his family first. The fact that he’s an arl and a seneschal makes things a little trickier.”

“Maker’s breath,” Cullen sighed in frustration. He did not want to deal with this, but he’d be damned if he let Albrecht come out on top. “And why is our age difference such an issue here?”

“Well, nobility here are betrothed to those around their ages. For a married couple to be eight years apart is unusual.”

“So Albrecht is twenty-four?”

“Twenty-seven.”

Cullen snorted. It was foolish to let them use something like his own age to get to him, so why did it get to him?

“I’m sure he’ll get the picture and… leave us alone,” Evelyn said, touching his arm.

“I’m sure he won’t,” Cullen snapped.

“That’s a bit much, Cullen,” she said. “He’s a rational man. He’ll give up.”

“No, he won’t,” Cullen said firmly. “He won’t let this slide, Evelyn. You heard what Amelie said. If you elope it doesn’t count? Who else thinks that, I wonder.”

Evelyn gave him a withering glance. “Cullen, you’re being-” She stopped herself. “I think you’re tired. I honestly wouldn’t take Amelie seriously. She’s always been like that. Albrecht is different, he’s rational, as I said.”

“He told me himself that you were still… available,” Cullen pointed out and sighed as he rested his hands on the parapet. “Maker, I want to wring the man’s neck.”

“Cullen,” Evelyn asked thoughtfully. “Are you…”

“Am I what?”

She saw his gaze. “...Tired?” she finished.

Cullen changed the subject. “The Teyrn seems to like you,” he said mildly.

“That’s what worries me,” Evelyn said, taking the cue from him. “He doesn’t like me, he worships me. He thinks I am a hero of legend.”

He smiled at her. “Aren’t you?”

“Cullen, that’s not helping. He’s impressionable. He’s only sixteen. That would explain why Ehren is having such difficulty moving things along with the investigation in the Warrens. No one is capable of giving the Committee the push it needs.”

“Except Albrecht,” Cullen pointed out.

Evelyn looked out over the city. “True,” she murmured. “But we should discuss this later.” She touched his cheek. “I know I’m asking a lot from you, but… would you join me back in the party, Ser Knight? If we’re together, I could flaunt you in the faces of all my foolish cousins and send them to sleep in tears.”

Cullen nodded, wishing he were somewhere else for a brief moment. He took her arm and walked into the nest of vipers, full of pitfalls for the unwary, that was the Salon.

++++

Cullen awoke the following morning before Evelyn did. He washed and pulled on a coat over his tunic to keep off the chill. It was still dark, but he walked silently through the house, looking for Vieri. Dog whined and followed him. Cullen pat the dog on the head. He realized that he was probably neglecting the beast with all this strangeness happening. Dog padded happily beside him as he headed to the Servant’s Quarters. He found Vieri in the kitchens, where she had been making herself useful to the household.

He handed her an envelope and gave her specific instructions. She took off her apron and headed out. Then he decided that it would be a nice day to play with Dog in the garden, and so he did. The beast ran like blazes, catching sticks that Cullen threw. Dog would bolt back, stick in mouth and roll over for a belly rub before relinquishing the stick he held. Cullen tried to pull the stick from the dog’s mouth without the belly rub but Dog held fast. It was impossible. Dog gave him a wide-eyed stare, his jaws clamped shut.

“Come on, you, hand it over, that’s an order,” Cullen grunted, pulling at the stick.

Dog wagged its bottom, rolled to his feet and jumped on Cullen, pushing him to the ground.

“Maker - stop!” Cullen cried as Dog licked his face with a huge wet tongue. Dog jumped off happily and picked up the stick, slapping its forepaws to the damp ground with glee. Cullen pulled himself up and gave chase.

It was past dawn when he got back to the room with Dog at his side.

“What on earth?” Evelyn blinked at him from the dressing table when he came into the room with mud on his clothes and caking dog’s fur.

“Good morning,” Cullen grinned, kissing her cheek.

“Andraste’s ass! You smell of Dog!” Evelyn wrinkled her nose.

“We had a boy’s morning,” Cullen chuckled.

“Please take a bath,” Evelyn wiped her cheek. “And Dog too.”

“Yes, love,” he said as Dog followed him to the bath.

Cullen was grateful that the day did not involve any salons or more of Evelyn’s cousins. He found himself completely free as Evelyn was heading out to the city with Marcelline - Cullen was glad not to be invited. She kissed him farewell after breakfast and left with her mother. Cullen stayed on the balcony, his fingers idly scratching Dog’s ear. It would be several hours until he got what he wanted. He decided to go check on the boy while he waited.

Bando had left a woman named Maria looking after the boy. The woman was motherly and warm. Cullen took to her immediately. She said that the boy had woken, but was in some form of shock. The healer would be in later in the day. She promised to send word when the healer arrived. Cullen thanked her and headed out.

He whiled the morning away training in the weapons room and reading in the library, Dog keeping him company the whole time. Cullen relished the morning, but he did feel strange having nothing to do. As he sat in a high-backed chair in the library, he wondered what he would be doing in Skyhold. There was the drills to oversee, not to mention the morning meeting with the captains. Any discipline cases to be dealt with would be dealt with by evening. He’d be reading reports on keeps and supplies- He wondered if everything would be alright when he got back. He would be gone for what appears to be a whole season.

And where in the Void was Eduard? The man had not reported back yet.

He had a simple lunch in the library, courtesy of Bando. And after that, Vieri brought  the mail to him. “There are also some reports from Skyhold as well, Commander,” said Vieri, setting down quite a thick stack of papers. “There were three birds.”

Cullen winced. “I’ll look at them, thank you,” he said. Vieri left the papers with him and left.  Sipping his mulled wine, he read the letters from Skyhold. There were indeed reports on the Inquisition's keeps and their supply lines. With such a small force, Evelyn really ought to think of relinquishing a keep or two in outlying areas. They were difficult to maintain with the reduced numbers. He set aside the keep report and opened another letter from Leliana. He read this one over and over.

He went to a shelf that held scrolls and parchments. It took him a while to find the one he needed. He went to the large desk he had been working at and unrolled the scroll, swearing in frustration when it kept tryintg to roll back. It was a map of Ostwick. He weighed down one end with the empty plate from his lunch and the other with his cup of wine. Dog peeked at him over the edge of the table, eyeing the plate.

Cullen’s eyes scanned the map for a long while. Finally, he found what he was looking for, his finger tapping on the spot. The Chantry building known as Andraste’s Ear on the fifth tier, one tier above the harbour. Cullen looked across the map for another compound. These buildings were unmarked, but they were where Leliana’s letters described,in the harbour proper. But he didn’t know enough yet, just suspicions. Perhaps it was time to plant a little seed and see where that led,

He gathered up his papers and the map and left the library, heading for his room. He stashed everything in the chest of dog toys he had brought and changed his clothes to head into the city.

He didn’t ride any horses and left Dog back at the house. He also left behind the rich clothes, wearing simple tunics and the leather vest he wore in Vintiver. He walked through the city, already bustling with the business of the day. As he proceeded down the tiers, he could see the richness of the upper tiers give way to poorly maintained cobblestone streets. It was more crowded here, buildings looming close together, squeezing the crowd on the street. Few were willing to bother Cullen. He towered over the people as they walked by. It was the middle of the afternoon when he finally arrived at Andraste’s Ear.

Though the chantry was in the poorer quarters, Cullen was surprised to see the building well-maintained. It was walled off from the end of the street, its steeple and its stained glass windows glittering in the late afternoon sun as the steeple towered above the buildings around it. The back of the chantry was built right against the cliffside. He walked through the gates, surprised to see rich carriages parked with their hoses and liveried servants. So the wealthy did come here.

He walked past the carriages and into the Chantry’s large double doors. The inside of the Chantry was tastefully opulent. Pews faced the central altar of Andraste. Cullen genuflected automatically.

He saw a sister walking up to him, her stance demure. “Good ser,” she said as he stood. “Have you come to sing the Chant or place your sins before the Maker?”

Cullen glanced at boxes built by the side of the Chantry. “I have come to confess my sins, sister,” he said. “I hear… that this is a discreet place to do it.”

She smiled at him. “That it is, ser. We are the Ears of Andraste, and we listen to your sins. All are placed before the Maker through our hearts and not a word will be repeated.”

“How can I be sure of that, sister?”

“Because all who hear sins here are mute,” she smiled at him. “Not a word will leave our lips. Your words are between you and Maker. Still, we will perform the rituals of cleansing. Your sins will be written down and burned. As fire cleansed and brought our Blessed Andraste to the Maker’s side, so shall your sins be cleaned by fire.”

“Then let my sins be cleansed, sister,” Cullen said. “I would like to make a confession.”

The sister smiled warmly at him and led him to a booth. Cullen stepped inside. It seemed to be like any other confession booth from within. “Confess your sins before the Maker,” said the sister and she shut the door behind her.

Cullen knelt down on the knee rest. It actually felt quite nostalgic. How long had it been since his last proper confession? There were no words from beyond the veil that separated his booth from the booth of the one hearing his confession. Cullen began the way he was taught. “My Creator, judge me whole: Find me well within Your grace. Touch me with fire that I be cleansed, tell me I have sung to Your approval.” There was no word from within. He presumed he was to continue with his confession. Cullen knew exactly the sort of salacious seed he could plant.

When his confession was over, he heard the rustle of parchment, The smell of smoke filled the air. Cullen stood up and left the booth. The one who heard him was small in stature, too small to be full grown. A mute child.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sneaky Cullen is a strange creature to write. He's finally throwing his hat in to play the Game. What do you think? Should he fail delightfully or succeed? COMMENT!


	6. The Need for Sturdy Tables

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen learns the hard way that not every table is as sturdy as his desk at Skyhold.

Cullen still managed to get home before Evelyn. The sun was already setting when she got back to find him sitting in the balcony at the table, sipping mulled wine, papers set about him on the table and on the floor. He looked up from the report he was reading when she entered.

 

“Hello,” he said. She looked quite ravishing in her short vest and breeches. He always found the sway of her hips alluring. He made a point to ravish her later.

 

“What is all this?” she asked in surprise as she picked up a report. She gave him a withering look. “Oh Cullen,” she sighed.

 

“What? They came with the morning mail,” he said innocently. He handed her some letters. “These are yours.”

 

Evelyn groaned. “We’re on holiday, Cull.”

 

“I know, I was bored,” he smiled apologetically. He had not expected the backlog of reports to come with the single letter he actually wanted.

 

She sat down to flip through her papers. “I’m terribly disappointed in you, Cullen,” she said. Servants were bringing in a heavy chest. “I didn’t want to work this holiday.”

 

“Those reports came to me,” he said. “Yours is mostly mail from friends.” He turned his eyes back to the report his was reading - possibility of establishing a supply line through the Vimmark Mountains, Josephine had written. That would avail their northern keeps to-

 

He looked up as she took the paper from his hand and leaned on the table in front of him, a leg on either side of his knees. “Evelyn-” he said, his eyes seeing the servants smirking as they set down the heavy chest. “Maker’s breath, we’re not alone-”

 

“Leave us.” Evelyn commanded, not looking around, her eyes fixed on Cullen’s mottled face. The servants politely shut the door behind them.

 

Cullen looked up at her, she was leaning on her arm, her shoulder arching as her eyes locked his. “Commander Cullen, it is my desire that you stop working immediately,” she commanded. “If you so much as pick up another paper in my presence, consequences will be dire.”

 

“Yes, Dread Inquisitor,” he said with a straight face.

 

“It is also my desire that you take your breeches off. Now.” Her look was stone-faced, the kind she wore when giving out judgement in Skyhold.

 

He smirked, standing up and pressing her against the table. “I aim to serve, Inquisitor,” he purred, kissing her deeply as he lowered her onto the papers on the table. She must have been... hungry for him, the way she pulled at his clothes, her hand getting in the way of his as he tried to unlace his breeches, her fingers grasping his length and stroking him urgently.

 

He could feel her kicking off her boots behind his back, her legs wrapped around his. When they thudded to the ground, he lifted off her, pulling her breeches off. She was already glistening down there when his fingers stroked her. He could smell her sweet musk in the heat of her sex. He smirked, pushing her hand away from his length and pinning it down on the table above her head. His eyes locked with hers, his fingers undoing the buttons of her vest. She unwound under his fingers, all her guards lowering as he lifted her tunic, exposing her breasts.

 

His lips kissed her neck as she writhed under him, legs spread, wanton, his. Tongue and lips drew a path of heat from her neck to her chest, around the outside of her breast, his five-o-clock shadow scratching her soft skin. His lips trailed under her breast. He heard her gasp when he took her sweet bud in his lips as last. Her chest heaved as he pleasured her, his hand once more stroking the bud of her sex with two fingers, the wet sounds making his heart beat faster, his body burn with desire.

 

“Oh sweet Maker,” she mewled, her breath coming hard and fast.

 

He looked up at her. “Breathe slow,” he murmured in that quiet way she loved, watching the effect of his voice on her. She shuddered and tried to breathe deeply.

 

He smirked. She came undone with him. No more Inquisitor. She was human with him. She was his. He pressed his finger into her. There was a place inside her, Mia had told him. Despite the fact that he got that information embarrassingly from his sister, he found that Evelyn would unravel like a spring when touched there. He sought it now, his finger hot inside her.

 

She cried out as he rubbed the spot within her. Her back arching and her chest heaving. “Breathe slow,” he whispered, her body writhing under him.

 

“Blessed Andraste-” she bit her lip and gasped, her chest heaving as she stiffened. Her cry came out from parted lips, a song of pleasure sung in abandon. Cullen smirked, satisfied as she writhed on his finger, shuddering as she descended from the heights of her pleasure. Her blue eyes looked at him, vulnerable. He stood over her as he drew his finger from within her.

 

She brought it to her lips and sucked the length of it. Cullen let out a ragged breath of desire. He set himself against her. Her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him in. He sank into the heat of her body, her desire enveloping him. A moan escaped his lips, his thrusts slow at first, rocked the table. She ran her hands through his hair, totally messing it up. She liked it that way.

 

Their lips locked, the table rocking harder as they came together with abandon. Her fingers caressed his nipples, sending fire through his body. He thrust harder, her hands all over him, her tongue on his scar, her teeth nipping his neck. He was close, his mind filled with nothing else but the peak that was to come. His thrusts built to a crescendo, the sound of their bodies colliding rising over their moans and the creaking of the table as he held her hips and thrust.

 

The fire washed over him, searing in its wake and leaving him with a warm glow as he came, her fingers entwined in his hair as he breathed hard against her shoulder. Sweat was pouring from his brow, her breasts heaving against his, her body quivering on his shaft as the world hung still for a moment.

 

Then the table leg broke. Evelyn yelped as he fell on top of her, Cullen catching her just in time to roll under her. His head hit the floor, lights flashing in his eyes as his whole skull seared with pain. Paper tumbled down around them. “Fuck!” he cried, grabbing the back of his head and curling up under Evelyn as she leaned over him.

 

“Cullen!” she exclaimed. Then the giggles came as she saw the state he was in, groaning in pain and curled on the floor with his pants undone and his tunic in disarray. “Cullen?” she giggled, holding the back of his head, unable to stop the laughter. “Cullen? Oh Maker. Cullen, are you alright?”

 

“Argh! Stop laughing!” he cried, blushing from his chest to the roots of his hair. He rolled onto his back. She was still giggling as she straddled him. Her kisses peppered his face.

 

“Awe, love, I’m so sorry you hit your head,” she giggled. “It was so good - the love making, that is. You fucked me so hard the table broke!”

 

Cullen groaned, covering his face with his hands. He wanted the floor to open up and claim him - send him straight to the Void, it would hurt less than the embarrassment. Nothing she said would make this any better.

 

She pulled his hands away from his face and kissed him. “Commander,” she said, her chesty voice washing over him, “consider the Dread Inquisitor extremely impressed.”

 

It was later that night. Cullen was sitting in the plush chair before the fire. Evelyn sat on the arm of his chair, holding an ice pack against the back of his head tenderly, a look of loving amusement on her face, her smile framed by her loose locks of damp hair. The papers had been stacked as best as they could be in the balcony, the table set aside, one of its legs broken.

 

“Not every table is your sturdy desk, Cullen,” she smiled at him.

 

He said nothing, still feeling embarrassed. Dog lay its head on Cullen’s other knee, its eyes looking at Cullen with - was that pity? From a dog?

 

“I still like the fact that you literally broke a table with your thrust,” she grinned at him.

 

He sighed heavily, his cheeks burning.

 

There was a knock on the door. Evelyn handed the ice pack to Cullen and went to open it. “Maker!” Cullen heard Evelyn exclaim as Eduard came in, smelling none too clean. He was wearing his dark leathers with his daggers at his back.

 

“It’s about time,” Cullen said.

 

“What on earth…” Evelyn wrinkled her nose and gagged slightly. “Why do you smell like that?”

 

“I had to hide in a pile of garbage,” Eduard explained. “There was a dead body in the trash. Sadly, he wasn’t one for idle chatter. A bunch of Cultists caught me snooping.”

 

“You found their lair?” Cullen asked, trying to ignore the smell.

 

“Obviously,” Eduard replied. Eduard looked at Cullen with the icepack on the back of his head. He glanced at the broken table in the balcony. “What happened to you?”

 

“Nevermind,” Cullen growled.

 

“Grumpier than usual, aren’t you?” Eduard said mildly.

 

“Eduard, focus. Cultists? Lair?” Evelyn waved her hand in his face.

 

“Oh, right. I got a tip off from a friend. Eventually, I found the cultists in the Warrens - in a big stone building, which is bloody weird. It used to be an old chantry but I guess they’ve taken up in it. I can imagine the Chantry letting that place get dilapidated and unused, even priests would like to not die in the Warrens, after all. But the place looks… good. Restored. Fortified.”

 

Which needed money, Cullen thought. Where was the coin coming from?

 

“How many cultists are there?” Evelyn asked intently.

 

“Seven that came after me. I’m sure there were more there. I couldn’t get close enough to find out, unfortunately. They caught sight of me and gave chase.”

 

“So we’re facing possibly over a dozen cultists in a fortified chantry with probable apostate support,” Cullen said, setting the ice pack aside. “Evelyn, I advise that we do not raid this chantry on our own. I cannot deflect magic as I used to.”

 

“How come?” Eduard asked. “I thought you were a Templar.”

 

“Once you stop taking lyrium, you lose your Templar abilities to counter magic. Rushing in with just the three of us would be unwise.”

 

“Perhaps Ehren can get us guards,” Evelyn murmured.

 

“That’s ridiculous,” said Eduard with a scoff.

 

“Why? The Committee of the City Guard is responsible for the Warrens too,” Evelyn said.

 

“They can’t even come to a decision,” Eduard sighed.

 

“Then we get Albrecht-”

 

“No,” Eduard and Cullen said in unison.

 

Evelyn shot them both annoyed glances. “Alright,” she said slowly as she held the stump of her arm. “Why. Not.”

 

“Because the guards couldn’t find their own arses with both hands,” Eduard said.

 

“And because we don’t know who is sponsoring that cult,” Cullen said. “Who paid for that building? Could be Albrecht, for all we know. It could be anyone.”

 

“Are you suggesting that Albrecht-”

 

“I’m not suggesting anything. I’m just saying, we don’t know who is sponsoring the cult.”

 

“Cullen, that is a serious accusation. You can’t just go around saying things because you’re jel-” She bit her lip.

 

“Because I’m what?” Cullen asked evenly. “Jealous?”

 

“I never said jealous!”

 

“You were going to.”

 

“But I didn’t!”

 

“But you were going to!”

 

“Even if I was, so what? Are you?”

 

“Jealous? Do I have a reason to be?” Their voices were raised now.

 

“I never gave you any reason to be jealous of Albrecht!”

 

“Other than he’s some official you’re too scared to break off an engagement with?”

 

“You’re being stupid!”

 

“Now I’m jealous _and_ stupid?”

 

“Stop acting like it!”

 

“I’m not jealous of Albrecht!”

 

“Good!”

 

“Good!”

 

They stared at each other, breathing hard. Cullen didn’t realize he was standing and yelling right along with her. “While this is terribly fascinating,” Eduard stepped in between the two of them, giving them both a withering look as he pushed them away from glowering at each other. “I should point out that we don’t need guards.” He paused and looked at them both refusing to look at each other. “Do you two even remember what conversation we were having?”

 

“Why don’t we need guards?” Evelyn said as Cullen turned away from her and sat back down, setting the ice pack against the bump on his head.

 

“Because I have friends.”

 

Evelyn growled. “Maker’s breath, Eduard - what are you involved in? Who are these friends? They help you keep watch, they talk to your poncy noble face and they hunt cultists for you? Are they Carta?”

 

“I can’t tell you,” Eduard looked uncomfortable.

 

“Why are they helping you?” Evelyn snarled. “Andraste’s tits, I am in no mood for dancing, Eduard!”

 

Eduard ran a hand over his face in frustration. “You know… Friends.” Cullen heard the clipped capital letter.

 

“Friends of the Red kind?” Evelyn held the stump of her arm.

 

“I figured you’d know about them,” Eduard said mildly. “I hear Val Royeaux’s Red Jenny works with you.”

 

“Why would they help a noble like you?

 

“Because... I am… also Red Jenny - or the one here in Ostwick, at any rate.”

 

“What?” Cullen exclaimed as Evelyn glared at her brother.

 

“Yes? Shocked? Because I’m a noble? They don’t care, you know - as long as you help the little people. And my friends will come when I call. I earned that much. I help them more than Ehren and that damn committee ever could.”

 

Eduard went on, his voice businesslike as he folded his arms. “Ehren can’t help us because his hands are tied. If the Inquisition brings their soldiers or that elf woman you have skulking about the place, it’ll be seen as a political infringement outside of your jurisdiction. So what’s left? Just us and my friends, kicking arse.” He put his hands on his hips in exasperation and glared at them both. “Are we killing cultists or not?”

 

“Give us an hour,” Evelyn said. “And take a bath, by the Maker!”

  
“Fine,” Eduard sighed, rolling his eyes. “I’ll see you in an hour. We’ll head to the harbour together.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Table 1, Cullen 0. Next chapter will be a chapter of battles and kicking ass. Cullen has to get SOME dignity back. What do you think of this chapter? Feed Commentmon!


	7. Chants in the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen and Evelyn infiltrate the Chantry of the Stilled Tongue at last in the depths of the Warrens.

 

It was smelly by the harbour of Ostwick. Though the moonlight danced over the waters as the stars glittered down, the view was ruined by the smell of rotting fish and sewage that had been dumped into the water only to return with the tide. Eduard led Cullen, Evelyn and Dog along the harbour, heading to a wharf that hugged the headland. Around them, Cullen could see golden light spilling out from the open doors of taverns where bawdy songs were sung badly by drunken voices. The light reflected off his pauldrons as they walked past the open doors. Evelyn’s leather coat flared as she walked, a cloth bundle tied around her chest and shoulder.

 

Dog stopped to sniffed the air, his armour glinting in the moonlight. “Where is this boat?” Evelyn asked tersely, her expression serious.

 

“Patience, sister,” Eduard said.

 

Cullen frowned as a memory bloomed in his mind. “I remember the first time we came, I saw a beggar watching us, wearing a white robe,” he said simply.

 

“You think it connected?”

 

“I haven’t the faintest idea,” he admitted.

 

There was a rowboat at the end of the wharf. They all got in with Cullen and Eduard at the oars. Evelyn was gripping the side of the boat so tightly her knuckles were white. Dog stood in the prow excitedly, his nose scanning the putrid odours.

 

“Maker!” Evelyn grit her teeth as they rowed off, the boat rocking lightly with their strokes.

 

“Stay calm,” Cullen said, trying not to breath in the smell of the salt and and rotting detritus.

 

“Cullen-” she began, blushing to the roots of her hair but too afraid to maintain any shred of her dignity. “Cullen, I can’t swim!” she finally admitted.

 

“I know,” Cullen said. “Eduard told me. Don’t worry, I’m wearing armour. I’ll meet you down there-” He caught himself. “I mean-!” Evelyn was shaking the life back into her knuckles, Cullen’s pauldron still ringing from her strike.

 

“Why did you do that?” he asked with a sigh. “I was only joking.”

 

“Don’t worry, sister,” Eduard said. “I’ve got you.”

 

Evelyn said nothing, gripping the boat firmly. Eduard steered them towards the cliff. Close to the wall of rock, he stood up, ignoring Evelyn’s swearing. He pulled aside the plants that hung down the cliffside, revealing a small passageway in the rock. “Pull in the oars,” Eduard said. Cullen did so. Sitting in the prow, Eduard began to pull them along the passageway, his gloved hands gripping the wet rocks. leaves fell shut behind the boat, casting them in darkness.

 

“Cullen, there’s a pouch under your seat. Rub it together hard and then open it.” Cullen felt under his seat, his fingers closing around a small leather pouch. In the dark, he could feel the sealed pouch was full of a strange gritty powder. He rubbed the pouch between his hands, rubbing the powders together and started to unfasten the leather thong that held it closed. Blue light glowed from the mouth of the pouch. They were in a cave of limestone, the stone falling in stalactites eaten away by the sea, glittering in the blue light of the deep mushroom.

 

Cullen found it beautiful, it was like being on the inside of a jewel. Since he was sitting with his back to the prow, he looked at Evelyn as she took in the sight, her eyes glowing blue with the light, all fear of swimming completely forgotten. She sighed, looking overhead at the glittering stalactites until her eyes caught his watching her. She smiled at him, a smile he returned, the memory of her in that moment etched in his mind.

 

“Light higher,” Eduard said. Cullen held up the pouch. They moved on through the dimness of the glittering tunnel with Eduard slowly pulling them along. “When I say so, shut the pouch tight and get ready to break out the oars - Silently, if you can.” Cullen nodded.

 

Evelyn held out her hand for the pouch, which he passed to her. When Eduard gave the signal, she bit one drawstring and pulled it tight, shutting off the light. Cullen set two oars in the water as silently as he could and began to row, twisting the oars to minimize splash when they emerged from the water. “Once we’re in the Piers, you don’t have to keep so quiet,” Eduard whispered as he took an oar from Cullen. “I just don’t want anyone finding out about my little shortcut.”

 

Cullen was beginning to change his opinion about Eduard. The man was resourceful and quick thinking, just totally full of himself. True to what Evelyn said, Eduard cared a great deal - cared enough to become Red Jenny despite the additional challenge posed by being a noble himself.

 

The walls began to change into stone, the stalactites cut off abruptly and turning into an arched ceiling. They came out in a small inlet into the dim light of the Warrens. Here there was moonlight streaming in through massive arched cave mouths that opened to the sea. The building stacked up against each other and the back of the cliffs, but the air was fresher here than in the depths of the Warrens they walked through the night before.

 

“There,” Evelyn pointed to a figure standing at the end of a rickety pier that jutted out into the waters. “He’s waving. One of yours, Eduard?”

 

Eduard nodded as they rowed to the pier. Before the boat could even stop, Evelyn jumped from the boat in a breeze of cold frost.

 

“Andraste’s tits!” the lookout exclaimed, stepping away from Evelyn as she landed on the pier next to him.

 

“Relax, Cutter,” Eduard said as he tossed up a rope to the man. “This is my sister and my brother-in-law. We’re out for a family outing - bit of night rowing with their little doggie. Sewer water is so bracing in the evenings.”

 

“She startled the shit out of me!” Cutter complained, tying the boat to the pier.

 

“Sorry,” Evelyn grinned. “I wanted to make an entrance.”

 

“It worked, Lady,” Cutter growled.

 

Cullen and Eduard took the more conventional method of climbing out of the boat. Cullen helped to pull Dog up onto the pier. Eduard led the way with Cutter following close behind. “Are the others here?” Eduard asked as they walked off the pier.

 

“They are keeping out of sight. They will join us once the killing starts. They are not to keen on meeting your family, Red,” Cutter said. “What’s the plan?”

 

Eduard glanced at Evelyn.

 

“Charge in.” Cullen muttered as the words left Evelyn’s lips.

 

“Charge in-” Evelyn began and gave Cullen a sidelong glance. She grinned impishly. “Our blades blazing, ask questions later?”

 

Cullen chuckled.

 

Eduard blinked at her in hesitation. “We’ll try a feint,” he suggested instead. “Give us a distraction. I have this walking explosive and battering ram here,” he jerked his thumb at Evelyn and Cullen, “So they can make us a new door round the back.

 

“Actually,” Evelyn said calmly, taking off the cloth bundle from her body. “We can get the main door open.” She unfurled the bundle, three Chantry robes falling to the ground. “I had them cleaned and mended in the city today. We could wear these and get whoever guards the door to open it. It would mean less casualties for Cutter and your Friends, Eduard, if they opened the door to us willingly. It will be easier to storm in if they welcome us to tea."

 

Cullen picked up a robe and held it up thoughtfully. “That is actually a sounder strategy,” he said. “We’ll save the explosion for a last resort. It’s not like we have trebuchets and battering rams to do the knocking for us. This isn’t Adamant.”

 

Cutter glanced at the both of them. “Well, well,” he said thoughtfully, looking at them both. “Red said he’d be bringing help. I didn’t expect such lofty company.”

 

Evelyn met Cutter's eyes. "This is off the records," she said. "We're here as nosy people. Nothing else." She bit her thumbnail. In deference to the fact that they were in company, Cullen resisted the urge to pull her hand from her mouth.

 

Cullen's mind was already racing. "Eduard and I will try to bluff our way in. Cutter and Evelyn will stay out of sight. Have your archers and whatever spell you've got at the ready. Once the door is open, Eduard and I will duck aside. Cut us and path into the house. If we fail to open the door, Evelyn can resort to her favourite strategy. The rest of us will cover her."

 

Cutter nodded, falling into line behind Cullen’s voice of command.

 

"We've got our plan," Evelyn said, drawing her blade hilt. "Let's go, Cutter." Cutter turned to lead Evelyn off into the dark. Evelyn paused and turned to Cullen, grabbing his breastplate and leaning up to kiss him deeply. Cullen's skin mottled as he heard Eduard snigger. "Don't die," Evelyn commanded. "We'll break another table after this." Cullen blushed to the roots of his hair, but he nodded anyway. She gestured for Dog to follow her. Dog whined at Cullen, but followed Evelyn obediently.

 

"Break another table?" Eduard asked him mildly as he he pulled on the Chantry robe.

 

"Just- s-shut up," Cullen stammered, slipping his hands into the robe.

 

Eduard chuckled, adjusting his robe over his leathers. He pulled up his hood. "Don't worry, I'm beginning to be glad it's you who managed to wed my sister."

 

Cullen grunted, pulling the hood over his head and wrapping the spare robe over his shoulders like a shawl to hide the shape of his pauldrons. He looked like the heavy fighter he faced in the alley.

 

They started off, Eduard swinging his arms. "Wrong," Cullen said. "Hands in your sleeves, walk slow."

 

Eduard nodded, following Cullen’s lead and slipping his hands into the robe sleeves. Cullen followed Eduard through the streets, the young man leading him confidently through the maze of the Warrens. From under the hood, Cullen could see the buildings on either side of the road leaning precariously over over the street, rising shambles that looked a breath away from collapse. They walked for a while, Eduard leading them to the side of the cavern where the buildings pressed against the walls..

 

"Where are your friends?" Cullen muttered under his hood.

 

"Up top, of course," Eduard replied. "I have a dozen archers and cut throats with me."

 

"Resourceful," Cullen said.

 

"Was that praise, Cullen?" Eduard gasped in shock from under his hood.

 

"Maybe. Don't let it go to your head," Cullen chuckled.

 

Eduard shot him an impudent grin.

 

They came up to the chantry at last. The building was not ornately built, but it was indeed made of stone. The chantry pressed up against the stone walls of the cave, surrounded by a fence of wrought iron spikes. Cullen saw that the irons were new. Someone was funding this place.

 

Donned in their robes, they walked at a stately pace to the gate, their heads bowed low in piety. Eduard’s hands moved under the sleeves of his robes and he slipped a glinting piece of metal into the large lock. Cullen stood beside him, watching tensely as Eduard picked the lock. The sound of it turning was loud in his quiet night. Eduard slipped his picks away and opened the gate. The gate creaked as Cullen pushed it open. He shut it but left it slightly ajar, the latch unbolted. Then they walked walked to walked to the door. The door door was heavy, oak wood reinforced with iron. It rose above them, twice as tall as a man. The windows of the chantry were barred with iron, tall and narrow. They must have once borne stained glass windows, but now were embrasures perfect for firing arrows.

 

Cullen felt the back of his neck tingle. They were being watched. They stopped at the door, hesitating for a fraction of a second.

 

A panel suddenly slid open in the door. Cullen swallowed surprise and remained calm. His heart was racing. " _Blessed are they who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter,_ " said a voice from within.

 

" _Blessed are the peacekeepers, champions of the just,_ " Cullen said automatically. Was this a password?

 

“ _Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow,_ ” intoned the voice within.

 

“ _In their blood the Maker’s will is written,_ ” Cullen finished. The eyes within looked a little sullenly at them.

 

“When did you get so good with the Chant?” asked the voice.

 

“Hurry up,” Eduard complained. “I’m freezing my balls off out here.”

 

“ _Heaven has been filled with silence,_ ” the voice within went on smugly, clearly rubbing it in that it was not his balls being frozen off.

 

“ _I knew then and crossed my heart with shame,_ if you must have it your way,” Eduard grumbled. “Now let us in!”

 

“Oh, very well,” said the voice. Cullen heard bolts being undone from within and the heavy door opened. The man behind the door was large, wearing a chantry robe as they were. “Why are you lot back so early? Where’s the tongues?”

 

“Now!”Cullen yelled. He and Eduard ducked away from the door as a blast of flame blew in the gate and fired into the house. The man by the door screamed, running within on fire. Arrows fired out at them from the embrasures Cullen ducked, the bolts hitting the shield on his back like rain, whizzing as they flew past his head.

 

There was a blast of cold wind and a low blasting sound that he had come to recognize. Evelyn stood over him and Eduard with her disruption field up around them, arrows fired hanging in the air once they entered the field. Eduard and Cullen ripped off their robes and drew their weapons and charged in, taking point. The main hall within was stripped of pews. Scaffolding was built against the front of the building, giving archers access to the embrasures. They turned their arrows to Cullen as he rushed in. A cultist swung a sword at him. Cullen caught it with his shield, deflecting the blow and stabbing the man in the neck. There was the sound of lightning blasting behind him. Five more men charged towards him. Cullen grit his teeth and banged his sword on his shield as he charged, green flashing around him. Dog’s barking and snarling filled the air, punctuated by the screams of men.

 

A cultist swung a dual-handed axe at him. Cullen dodged and knocked the axe in its swing. The axe burried itself in a cultist charging up from the right. Cullen ducked and turned, his sword moving with the flow of his body. He sliced into the knee of another cultist. A blast of force knocked the screaming man back, slamming him against the wall hard. Dog pounced, mauling the man in the face. Cullen glanced at Evelyn, standing in the middle of the hall, her eyes everywhere, her spells targeting the archers, the charging cultists, everywhere that was needed.

 

Cullen heard the enraged scream and rolled out of the way of the battleaxe’s swing. The axe scraped sparks as it smashed into the floor. Cullen felt a stab against his ribs, the blade catching on his backplate. He elbowed the cultist behind him in the face and slammed him back as the axe came down at him again, the blade missed him by a hair. There was a blast of magic at him. Cullen caught it on the shoulder, caught between the battleaxe and the cultist behind him. He felt his barrier shatter around him.

 

An apostate stood on the altar of Andraste, her staff flaring, rocks pulled from the ground into a boulder at the end of her staff. Cullen braced, the boulder flying out towards him, smashing into his shield and the other two cultists. He flew backwards across the floor, nearly stumbling, pain blooming from his shield arm. Was it broken?

 

“You’re mine!” the apostate screamed, lightning flaring from her staff.

 

There was a gust of cold and Evelyn was there, her body frozen as she came to a stop, crouched near him, her hand held out in front of her. Lightning blasted down from the ceiling, striking a blue bubble of mana that shielded them, locking them in stasis. Cullen could not move, stuck in Evelyn's spell shield.

 

The apostate screamed as a dagger flew past her, slashing into her shoulder. The lightning stopped. “No, he’s mine,” Evelyn growled to herself as the shield flickered away. She charged at the apostate, her blade drawn low.

 

“Eve!” Cullen shouted, but he could never catch her. Reinforcements were coming in through the side doors. Cullen blocked the arrows that fired at him. Then Cutter was there with shady men, all commoners, all armed to the teeth with hooked knives, cleavers and boat hooks, taking the fight to the charging cultists.

 

There were spells from the altar as Evelyn dueled the apostate, fire and lightning scorching the walls. Cullen saw Eduard hard pressed on the scaffolding, daggers flashing as he fended off two archers attacking him. Eduard leapt off the scaffolding, landing nimbly near Cullen. Two daggers flew from his hands when he landed. The archers went limp and dropped down dead, daggers in their faces.

 

There was a buzzing in the air. Cullen raised his shield over Eduard, the arrow snapping against it. Eduard nodded at him, ducked out from under the shield with his blades held low, charging the archers coming through the door.

 

Cullen charged at a warrior overwhelming Cutter, his arm flaring with pain. The cultist slashed down at Cutter with a sword. Cullen’s sword deflected the blade. He smashed the edge of his shield into the cultist’s throat. The cultist sputtered blood and bone from his mouth and staggered back. A tingle of magic in the air. Cullen pushed Cutter out of the way just as the blast of cold shot by them. There was a scream from the altar. Evelyn’s blade pinned the apostate to the statue of Andraste.

 

“Maker hear my cry!” the apostate screamed, her voice young and high. Blood flared from her wound and exploded. Evelyn cried out, flying backwards.

 

Cullen was moving before thought, his arm catching her as she sailed past him. He cocooned her with his shield as they rolled seemingly forever. He was bleeding from the head when the stopped. A tendril of blood flowed from the corner of Evelyn’s lips. She got up quickly. The girl was the centre of a swirling tornado of blood now. A thrown dagger blasted away as it pierced the tornado.

 

“Make me one with Your glory! Let the world once more see Your favour!” cried the apostate again, raising her hands. Cullen stood and charged. A barrier sprang up around him, pulsing green. She could not move when holding a spell active. 

 

“Cover Evelyn!” he commanded as he ran past Eduard. He did not look around, his eyes fixed on the apostate in her swirling aura of blood. She fired her magic at him, he couldn’t see it - he felt it in his bones, each step an agony, his own blood cutting him from within. Familiar pain. Just like the Circle in Ferelden - she could set blood on fire. He shut his mind to all else and charged despite the agony, every step he took a battle in itself. The barrier flared as he closed the distance, the apostate’s eyes widening.

 

Cullen ran through the aura of blood, his body on fire, green light flaring in the corners of his eyes as the barrier held against the swirling, searing blood. The apostate shrank for him. “How-” she gasped. Cullen’s sword split her skull in two.

 

The blood sprayed across the room, tearing free from the force of the apostate’s will. Cullen sank to the ground, leaning on his sword, breathing hard, his heartbeat thundering in his ears, dark mists filling his mind.

 

_Solona’s eyes, her smile, her form pressed against him, tempting and cajoling - pleasure and pain and her laughter - a demon’s caress. His bones on fire and his screams echoing against the walls as he begged for death. Uldred’s clinical eyes watching him writhe._

 

“Cullen!” The voice cut through the darkness. _Maker, though the darkness comes upon me,_ the words of the Chant came unbidden to his mind. “Andraste, please-” Evelyn knelt in front of him, her eyes moist. He blinked, as if seeing her for the first time. He shook his head, freeing himself from dark thoughts. He was not at the Circle.

 

“I’m fine,” he grunted, forcing himself to stand. He could barely move and staggered. Evelyn held onto him.

 

Her hand flared, her healing spell washing over him. He had never felt it so strong before - it flowed through him, within him, ebbing with her heartbeat. The pain faded from his bones, swept away like mist in the morning breeze. Cullen kissed her suddenly, tasting the blood on her lip as his own from his bleeding head mingled with their kiss. He was not in the Circle. It wasn’t real. He stepped away from her, realizing how stupid what he was doing actually was.

 

“Are you alright?” Eduard asked, running up to them. Dog running at his heels. The beast’s maw was bloodied, though his white fangs glinted.

 

“I am,” Cullen grunted.

 

The hall was emptying some of Cutter’s men running out the door.

 

“The bastards are running, Cutter will get them,” Eduard said, looking down at the apostate. “Was that blood magic?”

 

“Yes,” Cullen breathed.

 

Evelyn’s blade flared to life. “We’re not done,” she growled. “Cutter! Sweep the basement. Do not engage any apostates. Let them run - we’ll hunt them down later. Cullen, Eduard and I will take the tower!”

 

Cutter nodded and began to bark orders to his men.

 

Evelyn looked at Cullen, worry eloquent in her gaze. “Are you ready?”

 

Cullen nodded, his eyes like burnished steel in the light of a forge. “Let’s finish this.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many fighting. Much excites. So comments. ~Doge :3 Actually, we all know that comments keep writers going. We like to hear that someone out there is enjoying reading, or reading enough to not like it and let us know (which is totally okay too). So leave a bit of love (or not-love) behind! ^_^


	8. Greigor's Favourite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen and Evelyn finally confront the leader of the Cult of the Stilled Tongue.

They climbed the stairs of the Chantry’s belfry. It was the only other room besides the sacristry in the main hall, which was empty. Cullen took point, blood-smeared shield at the ready, his sword poised to strike. Eduard brought up the rear, his footfalls silent on the wooden steps. They climbed with Evelyn and Dog taking the centre, the glow of her sword illuminating their path. Above, the bells of the Chantry hung unused from stout rafters, the pull-ropes long rotted away. To Cullen’s right, the stairs opened to the hollow centre of the tower, a four storey drop to the stones below.

 

As they climbed, Evelyn raised another barrier, her blue eyes intent. Cullen felt the shield raise over his skin. It was as familiar to him as his own armour now. She was always there when he was in danger, she would always be at his side come blade or spell or darkness. The thought swelled his determination as they climbed. He wasn’t alone. He took so long to learn that. He would have one spell unmake him.

 

They emerged at the top of the stairs. The blue glow of the deep mushrooms on the roof of the cave illuminated the belfry. Dust motes hung in the air like wisps. A figure leaned against the side of one of the windows. Cullen’s blade was ready, his body bracing for spell or sword-

 

“Hello, Cullen.”

 

Cullen felt Evelyn and Eduard’s eyes turn to him. They stopped. Cullen frowned. The voice was familiar. The figure looked over at him. It was a woman. Her hair was long and in disarray, dark strands caught in blue light. She was donned in a circle robe, her eyes familiar. Her face once belied beauty, but now was pale and sallow. “Do I…” Cullen began, digging through the depths of his memory for where he had seen that face.

 

“Greigor’s favourite,” said the woman. “I know you. Though, I’m not surprised you don’t remember me. You had your eye on another at the time.”

 

Cullen gasped, recognition dawning on him. “Keili?” he breathed.

 

Her smile softened. “So you do remember,” she said warmly.

 

“I thought you- Greigor said you were dead...”

 

She threw her head back and laughed. Her laugh rising to the rafters on wings of cynicism . “Oh, you were always gullible,” she chuckled. “Greigor told you that? He hid the truth from you. Perhaps he feared what you might do.”

 

“Cullen, you know her?” Evelyn asked beside him.

 

“She was an apprentice at the Circle before the Blight,” Eduard said.

 

“Yes, that I was,” Keili set her hand on her hip. “I fought with Wynne. I fought demons beside Cullen's precious Solona. I protected the Circle with my curse. And what did that get me?” She smirked, her eyes wounded and hollow. “Aeonar.”

 

“What?” Cullen breathed in disbelief.

 

“You don’t know!” she burst out and laughed once more. “Oh Cullen, always sweet, always trusting - even after everything they did to you. You believed Greigor? What did he say? That I fled? That I turned?”

 

Cullen felt shame rising within him. He knew Keili had fought for the Tower, but after the events of the Blight, Cullen didn’t even ask after her. He didn’t care to. He was so angry with all the mages. He had accepted Greigor's word that she was gone and never questioned further.

 

“Doesn’t matter, Keili said,” tears in her eyes as her voice quivered. “You were always his favourite, he would do anything to save his one surviving, promising Templar. But I… I was just another mage. They put demons in me, but I fought them off, I fought them off and tried to save the Circle. I did the Maker’s will. But they called me blood mage, possessed; they dragged me to Aeonar.”

 

“How did you get here?” Evelyn asked.

 

“I would not go to Aeonar,” said Keili, running a hand over her face. “A spirit showed me then, that I had a choice. The Maker gave me this magic - it is a gift, Solona had told me, but the spirit revealed that it was a gift only if I made it so. I escaped.”

 

“With blood magic,” Evelyn frowned, her voice cold.

 

“Yes.” Keili’s voice was barely a whisper. “Now I use my gift to help.”

 

“Keili, you’re the head of this Cult?” Cullen asked, pity swelling in him.

 

Keili nodded.

 

“Why?” Cullen exclaimed. “You would never do this! You once fought for what’s right! You fought blood mages!”

 

“And what did that get me?” she screamed suddenly, the force of her will rocking them. Cullen heard Dog growling beside him. “It got me nothing but Aeonar! I had to find a new way to help - I help children. Don’t you see? They always try to stop me but they never can - not for long. I help children. Stilled tongues speak no heresy, stilled tongues cast no spells. I’m sparing these young mages from a life of pain!”

 

She was shaking now, her sobs raking her body. “I fought to save them, I used my magic to save them - it would be alright, he said,” she muttered to herself, shaking her head.

 

“Who said?” Evelyn growled.

 

“And you - Cullen you lived! You never saw me but you lived. I was happy for you. You’ve become great. They put demons in us both - we both won. We both help people, we’re the same!”

 

“We are not!” Cullen cried. She took a step back, her foot near the window. “Keili...”

 

“I knew you would come to find me one day,” Keili went on, a grin coming to her face. “You and I are the same. We both won - we both triumphed! Hah! Don’t worry, I’m going to save these children from everything we went through! Never will I allow any of them to become like Uldred!” She grinned manically at him, laughing and crying as she spoke.

 

Her foot hung half off the edge of the window.

 

"Keili stop!" Cullen cried.

 

“We will talk again soon,” she breathed and jumped, a red mist enveloping her.

 

“No-” Cullen croaked.

 

Evelyn swore as she ran and leapt out the window, frost at her feet. She hung in the air a moment and fell, her sword trailing like a comet.

 

“Evelyn!” Cullen cried a he reached out for her. He felt someone pull him back and realized he was running after Evelyn.

 

“This way!” Eduard shouted, leading Cullen down the stairs. They thundered down the flights of stairs to the main hall, Cullen’s heart in his throat with worry for Evelyn. The thought of losing her- No, he would not think that! He pushed the thought from his mind and ran. They burst through the stricken doors of the chantry and heard a blast from the pier and ran off towards the sound, Cullen’s heart thudding in his ears. There was frost on the ground, she must have come this way. They reached a street that opened to the water. Evelyn was standing at the end of a pier, snarling.

 

She turned and screamed in frustration, kicking at a pile of trash beside her. Garbage splashed into the water. “She got away,” Eduard said. It was not a question.

 

“She jumped in the water and vanished!” Evelyn snarled, her hand balling into a fist. “If only I could swim-”

 

“More likely you would have been drowned by her,” Cullen said, unable to hide the relief he felt from showing on his face. “She is a blood mage. She might have done it deliberately to trap you.”

 

Evelyn swore, her words like a viper’s hiss. “Then we’ve lost her,” Evelyn snarled, getting a grip on her frustration.

 

Cullen swung his sword in an arc, blood swiping off the fuller into the water. “We will find her,” he said quietly. “We have to talk to the Circle now.”

 

Evelyn pulled herself together. “Agreed,” she said evenly. “We will need Templars to find her - her phylactery from Denerim as well as the Litany of Adrala.”

 

“For now, let’s see what we can find in the Chantry,” Cullen said.

 

“Let us handle that,” Eduard said. “My Friends and I can clean up.” He looked seriously at Cullen. “You walked through a storm of shit. I would feel better if you headed back.”

 

“I’m fine!” Cullen snapped.

 

“No,” Evelyn looked at him seriously. “No, Cullen, we are going back home.”

 

“I said, I’m fine!”

 

“You should be dead!” Evelyn cried, her voice echoing in the street. Dog whined.

 

Eduard shook his head. “Maker’s breath, you both - sort this out! I have work to do.” He turned on his heel and ran back to the Chantry.

 

Cullen shut his eyes and drew his hand over his face wearily. “Yes,” he said finally. “I should be.”

 

“Why did you run into that blood mage's attack?” Evelyn demanded, her eyes wet.

 

“You saw it blow away the throwing dagger. The Templars train us to engage a full-on, close-range attack in such a situation.” He tried to be rational, no thoughts of darkness, not in the face of her tears.

 

“It was all I could do to hold the shield up - and when she hit you with blood magic, I couldn’t dispel it, not without dropping that shield! I thought-” Her voice faltered. She swallowed, blinking back the tears that came despite it all. She looked away from him and roughly wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. Her tears shamed him.

 

His arm wrapped around her shoulders, holding her to him. His other hand still held his blood-streaked sword. “I’m sorry,” he said, kissing her hair.

 

“You could have died, Cullen! You could have torn every muscle in your body from your bones!” she thumped her fist against his breastplate. “You’re not even taking lyrium - you had no way to defend yourself!”

 

“I had a wife whose shield is as familiar to me as my own armour,” he said softly. “And… And I’ve survived such spells before. For days on end.”

 

Evelyn stared at him, her blue eyes wide. “Cullen-” she breathed.

 

“We’ll talk when we get back,” Cullen said brusquely. “Not here. Not now.”

 

++++

 

“Is he awake?” Cullen heard. His body was on fire, pain throbbing from every joint. He groaned at the sound of voices, echoing in the chamber. “And he has resisted? For five days? Remarkable.”

 

Cullen could not move, his eyes saw stone floor close to his face. His body twisted uncomfortably, splayed on the stone in full armour. His gauntlets were caked with blood. Not his, he remembered. Not his blood. Blood of mages, the ones who attacked. There were children screaming. He heard the hum of the magical cage around him fade.

 

Then, fire seared through him - his blood ablaze, his own muscles tearing him apart. Cullen screamed, writhing on the floor. He looked up. Uldred with his hand raised over him, dark eyes watching him clinically. Cullen felt his head bang on the floor as his body arched backwards. He gasped when the pain vanished, rolling over onto his belly, his hands weakly pulling him forward as he tried to crawl free of the cage.

 

Thoughts in his head - they weren’t his - fingers probing his mind, snaking into the deepest parts of his head. Memories bubbled like bubbles in the lake he used to sneak off too - Mia’s yelling as he kicked over a chess board, Rosalie’s hum as he braided her hair, “Cully, will you braid it up like a pwincess today?” Rosalie’s voice echoed in his head.

 

Why? Why were they doing this to him?

 

The pain flared in him again, he balled his fists and screamed, curling up in agony. Rosalie’s voice faded from his mind. The fingers dug deeper, deeper in him, into his most secret thoughts, leaving him violated in their wake. A kiss in the barn, she was a year younger than him, what was her name? “I’m going to be a Templar,” he had said. “Will you kiss me goodbye?” He remembered the kiss. It was wet. The snaking intruder in his head grasped this memory and pulled harder. A face surfaced, a face he knew, a face he'd watched with longing. “I was to strike the killing blow should you fail your Harrowing. I would have felt terrible about it. I’m glad you’re alright-” The thought of her lips on his - the sway of her hips when she walked past. He writhed in agony and shame, forcing the thought from his head with all the will he had. The fingers retreated from his mind. “No-” Cullen growled. “Leave me.”

 

Uldred chuckled above him. “In time you will accept my gift, dear boy,” Uldred purred. “You are impressive. Your mettle with a demon behind you… Imagine what you could accomplish. All you have to do is let them in.”

 

“Leave me!” Cullen crawled for the edge of the cage. The pain exploded inside him as he screamed as he felt... something being forced in him. The world swam in and out of vision as his body was raked with blood magic. He snarled and fought back with every fibre of his being. Then, a shadow moved in the darkness before him. “Leave me or let me die!”

 

He gasped loudly, sitting up and staring ahead, his heart hammering in his ears, his body slicked with sweat. He was in Evelyn’s room back at the estate, the fire burning out as the dawn light filled the room. He stared ahead unseeingly, the last tendrils of the dream falling from his mind like a shroud. A hand touched his shoulder. He flinched away from it, swatting the hand away.

 

Evelyn looked hurt as she sat on her knees in bed next to him, pulling her hand away. She said nothing, her eyes knowing.

 

Cullen caught his breath. “Forgive me,” he said, taking her hand and kissing it. “I didn’t mean to. I- It was-”

 

“A bad dream,” she finished. She leaned in and touched her forehead to his. “It’s been so long since they came.”

 

“I have had more things to be happy about,” he breathed. “But last night… the memories...”

 

She kissed his words away. “You were screaming,” Evelyn murmured. “I’m worried about you.”

 

“I don’t mean to make you worry,” he apologised.

 

“I’ll worry anyway,” she said. “I love you.”

 

He smiled, his nightmare fading from memory. He kissed her again, his hand in her hair. “I love you too.”

 

“We should get moving,” Evelyn said. “We need to talk to Ehren and Eduard.”

 

Cullen nodded. He had bathed before his sleep, but he felt filthy inside and out. “Let me get cleaned up. We’ll need to eat somewhere else because- well-”

 

“I know,” Evelyn smiled playfully and kissed his cheek. “We broke it having the best sex so far. I’ll run you a bath, love.”

  
Cullen smiled as he watched her go into their bathroom. The sound of running water filled the air. He ran his hand through his hair, sighing heavily. He had never asked after Keili. If she was truthful about what happened to her, then what was done to her was abominable. Now she was... mad. Could he have saved her had he probed Greigor further? If he had only questioned more, this injustice wouldn't have... No, there was no use in what-ifs. The man he was then, he wouldn't have questioned. "Good riddance," he would have said. Shame swallowed him. He covered his eyes with his hands. He was atoning. He was not the same man. He had come so far. He would find Keili, he resolved, and save her if he could.   
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do leave some comments before you go :) They help encourage me and keep me writing! The readers are part of the of a writer's enjoyment of the hobby, after all.


	9. Enter, the Inquisition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the madness in the Warrens and a mad blood mage on the loose, Evelyn finally brings the weight of the Inquisition down to bear on the City of Ostwick, as Cullen partakes of the Grand Game. Also, he meets Ser Laurent, who opens his eyes to so many fascinating new ideas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter has been edited with the ending it should have had.

They met in The Teyrn’s study later two hours after dawn, a large well appointed room with marble and alabaster fittings. The Teyrn Arrington sat at his desk, surrounded by Cullen, Evelyn and Ehren, all staring transfixed. On the table, in a wax-sealed jar, floating in pale red liquid, was a severed tongue. It was small. The tongue of a child. Cullen was horrified to the core. Eduard stood at the table, a grim look on his face.

“Andraste preserve us,” Teyrn Arrington breathed at last, his face as pale as the ivory doublet he wore. His massive chain of office glinted in the light that streamed through the tall arched windows. “It is a good thing you got drunk in that Warren alehouse, Eduard. You’d never have stumbled upon this otherwise. And now I hear the Inquisitor and her Commander have already routed these blood mages.” He shook his head. “You should have come to me,” he said to Evelyn.

Evelyn had worn her armour with the mark of the Inquisition on her breastplate, her staff bearing the figure of Andraste in flames leaning against her chair. Cullen had balked at her decision to use it today since Albrecht had given it to her, but he saw the political benefit of it. She was imposing, she walked differently - bearing the power and might of the Inquisition. He had worn his commander’s armour as well, his fur framing him as he sat in the Teyrn’s plush chair.

“We wanted to, my lord,” Evelyn replied, leaning back in the plush chair, her legs crossed. “Time was of the essence, however. If the blood mages knew we were coming, or heard news that we approached you or the Committee, they might have fled.”

“But some got away,” Arrington said.

“Unfortunately,” Evelyn sighed. “Their mistress is… dangerous enough to have evaded me.”

Arrington sighed and looked at the jar once more. “To think that you found this in their lair...”

“This is one of many,” Eduard said seriously. He hadn’t changed out of his leathers. “Shelves upon shelves. Some of the jars look old. It seems as if the tongues were… saved.”

“There are blood magic rituals that allow maintained control over a person,” Cullen said grimly. “They sometimes require the use of body parts.”

“Then the cult was using the tongues to… control the children?” Ehren breathed. “Maker’s mercy - but the children are in the orphanages!”

“They are,” Eduard said. “Upon finding the tongues, I went to check on the Children. Ehren has long laboured against the killings and mutilations in the Warrens. I had heard him lament about the Committee’s… pace. The orphanage is quiet, however. The children seem… in shock, almost. They neither speak nor emote. They are sombre and quiet. The caretakers are pleased, of course. They think the children are well-behaved because of the Maker’s blessing.”

“How could they think that?” Evelyn asked.

“Because the children-”

“Serve as the Ears of Andraste,” Cullen murmured in as the thought entered his mind. He looked up at the others staring at him, swearing inwardly that he had vocalized his thought.

“Go on, Commander,” Evelyn said. “What have you found?”

“I went to investigate Andraste’s Ears,” Cullen admitted, leaning forward in the chair as he spoke, steepling his fingers on the table. “They hear the confessions of their patrons and cleanse them.”

“You went to investigate?” Evelyn asked. “How did you even know to look there?”

“I asked Sister Nightingale for- some reports. I got a lead on that chantry in particular.”

“How did you know the link between the Chantry and the orphanage?”

Cullen looked slightly uncomfortable. “I asked Leliana.”

“About Andraste’s Ear?”

He mottled a bit but kept his expression grim. “Yes,” he said. Not a total lie. Evelyn seemed to spot it immediately from the twitch in her eyes. She said nothing, however. He went on quickly. “It was merely a curiosity. I had never heard of Andraste’s Ear. Anyway, the one who heard my confession was a mute child.”

“I wonder of Albrecht knows the unfortunates he’s helping are the thralls of blood mages,” Ehren breathed. Did Albrecht know, Cullen wondered. What if he did? He wouldn’t know for sure until Albrecht made his move. It was just as well that it was so early, the man was not in the palace yet. It was the only way Ehren had managed to demand his way in to speak to the Teyrn, bypassing Albrecht’s iron grip on Arrington’s time.

Teyrn Arrington glanced at the men around him and at Evelyn. There was uncertainty in his eyes. “Then,” he spoke, his voice slightly squeaky. “Then we must put a stop to these blood mages!”

“We will,” Evelyn said, her voice crisp with command. Evelyn stood up, the mark of the Inquisition on her breastplate glinting under her dragonscale robes, the gauntlets and greaves she wore rattling as she moved. “I have already sent a message to Divine Victoria appraising her of the situation here. I expect her official endorsement of the Inquisition’s involvement within the week. With your leave, Teyrn Arrington, I would like to officially helm the investigation as Inquisitor on behalf of the Chantry.”

The Teyrn brightened up. “Then as Teyrn of Ostwick,” he said, standing up as grandly as he could. Cullen and Ehren stood as well, marking the moment of official appointment “I hereby appoint Inquisitor Trevelyan as head of the Inquiry on-”

The door slammed open. Albrecht looked at them in surprise, his hair not as neat as before, his gray eyes filled with momentary chagrin. “Forgive me, my lord,” he bowed. “I was in haste. I did not know of this meeting.” His eyes shot to Ehren and Cullen. Cullen suspected some animosity between the two men. Ehren had not been at the salon when Albrecht was there, after all.

“It was a matter of urgency, my lord Seneschal,” Ehren said smoothly.

“The meeting should have been arranged by me,” Albrecht said.

“We didn’t want to wake you,” Cullen replied, his scar twitching as he tried not to smirk.

“I was just appointing the Inquisitor as the head of Inquiry on behalf of the crown,” Arrington said, sounding oddly… excited.

“Is Ostwick’s Committee of the City Guard so incompetent that the Teyrn has to appoint an outsider to do their job?” Albrecht asked.

Ehren’s nostrils flared. “Has the Seneschal been so poorly informed?” he asked crisply. “Does the Seneschal not know the circumstances that led to the Inquisitor’s involvement?”

“Blood. Magic.” Eduard said, folding his arms, laying the words down like a winning hand of Wicked Grace. He smirked at Albrecht impudently.

“Blood magic?” Albrecht frowned, looking at Arrington.

“Yes,” said Arrington slowly. “How did you not know?”

“Blood mages are devious, my lord,” he said suddenly. “Their wiles and magic must have helped them evade my contacts.”

“Of course,” Cullen muttered, his voice barely on the edge of hearing.

“Your impertinence does you no credit, Commander Cullen,” Albrecht said stiffly. He looked at Arrington. “My lord, the defence of the citizens of Ostwick should not be delegated to the Inquisition, as capable as they are. What will the citizens think? What if they call for an election?”

Arrington frowned in indecision, biting his lip.

“The fact that there are blood mages takes the matter out of the Teyrn’s jurrisdiction,” Evelyn said then. “By right, the Knight Commander of Ostwick’s Templars should now be in charge. However, as Inquisitor, I am the highest ranking Chantry Official in Ostwick, and so supersede him.”

“Allow me, my lord,” Albrecht said. “I have my own contacts, I should be able to find-”

“You just said you couldn’t,” Eduard pointed out.

“But my Lord Du Grace brings up a good point,” Cullen murmuredl, leaning his hands on the pommel of his sheathed sword. “It would be churlish to take the investigation completely away from the Teyrny. It is the Teyrn’s sovereign duty to protect the citizens of Ostwick. May I suggest a partnership between the Committee of the City Guard, the Templars and the Inquisition? I would invite you to join us, Lord Du Grace, but the blood mages have already evaded your contacts before.”

Albrecht was silent, his glare like frost as he looked at Cullen. Cullen let the glare pass through him, making a mental note to gloat about this later. In private.

“I support that,” Arrington said, slapping a skinny hand on the desk.

“My lord, I must protest this fool notion that we need the Inquisition support for our internal affairs,” Albrecht said.

“What would you have me to, Albrecht?” Arrington suddenly exclaimed. He met Albrecht’s eyes and seemed to flinch. Arrington lowered his gaze. “I mean, we have no choice. There are blood mages around. We must act. I would rather have all of us acting together than floundering about.”

Evelyn leaned her hands on Arrington’s desk, meeting the Teyrn’s eyes. “Then let us make this official, my lord,” she said. “The Teyrn of Ostwick and the Inquisitor, putting down a pack of blood mages with Templars at their side. It would truly be historic.’

Arrington’s eyes lit up. “Of course,” he said. “Albrecht, send for the scribes.”

Albrecht was masterful enough in the Game to not grit his teeth in chagrin. Pity, Cullen thought. That would have been something to see. Albrecht’s scribes were summoned, and the declaration of appointment was drawn up. The order was given for the letter to be nailed to every chantry door in Ostwick. Word was sent out to the Knight Commander to send Templars to guard the Chantry in the Warrens. Cullen watch Albrecht arrange it all. He was quite proud of the way he controlled his gloat.

As they were leaving the Palace to head to the Tears, he saw Albrecht draw Evelyn aside at the Palace gate. Cullen kept his eyes averted as their horses were readied for them. Eventually, Evelyn came to join them, her eyes tight, the staff Albrecht gave her no longer with her. What did they talk about, Cullen wondered, and realized he really ought to not gloat - however good it felt. Eduard, Ehren, Evelyn and Cullen rode off for the Tears, Evelyn’s face like stone.

++++

Cullen had heard about the Tears of Andraste, Ostwick’s Circle. He was not expecting to see it in his lifetime, but here it was. They had ridden down a road into the ground itself, a road which opened to a huge cavern open to the sea. The cave was huge - large enough to fit Denerim’s castle. But the Tears themselves, were a marvel. Twisting spires of what was once stalactites hung from the ceiling, connected by bridges that arched over the churning sea water. In the middle, it’s lit windows glittering like a jewel, was the tear-drop shaped main spire.

“Looks grand, doesn’t it?” Ehren said to Cullen as they dismounted at the end of the main bridge, caked in limestone. No horses were allowed across the bridge.

“Until you realize they empty their privies into the sea,” Eduard pointed out.

“Maker’s breath, be serious,” Evelyn sighed as she started across the bridge. Two Templars guarded the door. Evelyn did not slow down. Either they opened or she was going to blow the doors apart. The Templars glanced at each other and swung the doors open, being smart enough to recognize the Inquisition’s crest on her chest.

“Wise decision,” Eduard murmured to the Templars as they passed. To Cullen’s surprise, inside the spire was lined with stone. It looked and felt similar to Kinloch Hold in Ferelden. A Templar stepped forward and saluted. “Inquisitor,” he greeted. “Knight Commander Laurent awaits you in the First Enchanter Jorick’s office.”

“Lead on,” Evelyn said. They were led up the Tear into the round office of the First Enchanter, the young First Enchanter sitting at the table. He was a huge man - as built as a Templar. His fiery red hair and bristling beard put Cullen in mind of a bear in a robe. Beside Jorick, was Ser Laurent, a woman. She stood wearing full Templar plate, a massive broadsword at her back, her blond hair braided up in a bun. The woman was beautiful. Cullen glanced at Evelyn, and then at Ser Laurent. Hadn’t Eduard said that Evelyn had once liked… Cullen’s mind shrank from the thought, though he was sure he would entertain it in great detail later.

“Evelyn,” Laurent smiled at her, her voice naturally sultry with it’s slight Orlesian accent.

Evelyn nodded to the knight. “I would gladly exchange pleasantries, Ser Laurent, First Enchanter, but time is of the essence,” she said, her voice all business. “We hunt a blood mage from the Circle of Ferelden. Keili is her name.”

Ser Laurent nodded. “What do you know of her?”

Evelyn glanced at Cullen. “She was a mage from the Circle of Magi in Ferelden,” he reported. “She always believed her magic to be a curse and never took the Harrowing officially at the Circle. She claims to have had a demon put in her during Uldred’s revolt, but managed to fend it off. She was taken to Aeonar at Knight Commander Greigor’s request. She says that she used blood magic to escape on the way to Aeonar.”

“It is possible she might have crossed the sea,” Jorick said, his voice deep and melodic. “Without her phylactery, however…”

“We will send word to Denerim,” Laurent said.

“I already have,” Evelyn said. “I wrote a lot of letters. The Inquisition has sent word to Denerim to have the phylactery sent over. But I’m not sure how long we can wait.”

“Understood. We will search the old fashioned way. I will dispatch my Templars to comb the city.”

“The City Guard is under orders to tighten security at the gates,” Ehren said. “With any luck, we’ll have her trapped here.”

“It is not the gates or the city that I worry about,” Jorick pointed out. “Why would she stay here when she has all that ocean to cross? She might be halfway to Rivain right now.”

Evelyn sighed. “We must do what we can. There are still dregs of the cult to hunt, as well as other maleficar associated with the cult. Keili is just the one I really, really want to talk to.”

“Consider it done, Inquisitor,” Laurent said.

“I will see what my mediums and scriers can divine,” said Jorick. “The Tears stand with you, Inquisitor. It is an honour to see one of our own rise to such prominence.”

Evelyn bowed in gratitude. “Thank you, First Enchanter Jorick,” she said gravely. Evelyn turned to leave.

“Allow me to show you out,” Laurent said. She bowed to the First Enchanter and walked out with Evelyn. Their footsteps echoed in the hall as Evelyn and Laurent walked before them. Cullen realized Laurent was almost a head taller than Evelyn. “How long has it been, Eve?” Laurent asked.

“Too long, Sofia,” Evelyn smiled at Laurent. “You’ve moved up in the world.”

“Not as much as you,” Laurent said warmly. “Such a homecoming. I- We are proud of you.”

Evelyn’s smile warmed. They emerged at the bridge once more. Laurent gave Evelyn a warm hug. “Visit me,” said Laurent.

“Once all this madness is over,” said Evelyn. “After the Firefly ball, at the latest.”

She waved and moved off across the bridge.

“Evelyn,” Laurent called. Evelyn paused and looked at the beautiful knight. “Congratulations on your wedding.” Evelyn glanced at Cullen and grinned at Laurent.

Cullen looked at Laurent in surprise as the beautiful Templar smiled back at him. “She has a type I recognize, Commander, it was not hard to guess,” Laurent chuckled. “If anything turns up, we will report to you immediately, Commander Cullen. I put my Templars at your disposal.”

“Thank you, Ser Laurent,” Evelyn smiled.

Cullen cleared his throat and moved to follow Evelyn. “We probably should have told him Ser Laurent was a woman, shouldn’t we?” Cullen heard Ehren murmur to Eduard.

“And miss that look on his face? Maker forbid.” Eduard laughed.

+++++

It had been a long day, but Cullen felt like he was getting back into the momentum he had at Skyhold. He had to inspect the Templar guard at the Warren’s chantry, he established search areas with the Templar Captains, he yelled at City Guard recruits who refused to enter the Warrens to sweep it for Cultists. That had been exciting. They had agreed to go in after most of their rebellious ringleader’s bleeding stopped. Cullen’s knuckles were still aching. Ehren would need to do something to get the Guards into shape.

Once he entered Evelyn’s room, he sighed and seemed to slump. He was exhausted. Which was good. More work, less dreams. He went to the balcony, looking out at the garden below. A Templar stood there. Good. He didn’t want Keili to show up here, not with breakable things about - like Evelyn’s family.

Cullen sighed at how uninterested Marcelline was to all this. She spent so much of her time holed up in her quarters with her companions. When she wasn’t doing that, she was focused on preparing for the stupid ball. At a time like this, too. Cullen stepped away from the balcony, pulling off his gloves and starting to unbuckle his bracers.

Evelyn entered then, looking as exhausted as he was.

“Did things at the palace smooth over?” Cullen asked.

“Maker’s breath!” Evelyn sighed and threw herself down on the chair in front of the fire. “I can’t stand. Arrington is like a puppy!”

Dog whined at her, tilting his head at her words as he lay by the fire.

“Don’t worry, you’re cuter,” Evelyn waved her hand absently at the dog, who barked appreciatively.

“The coalition between the Guards, Templars and Inquisition still holds, doesn’t it?” Cullen asked.

“Of course, despite all the political maneuvering,” Evelyn replied. “The Committee isn’t pleased that Ehren was put in charge and are trying to block him. Albrecht hates you with a passion for excluding him, of course. He isn’t pleased about the Inquisition’s involvement either.”

“He hates me?” Cullen smiled.

Evelyn looked at him and sighed theatrically from the depths of her chair. “Commander Cullen, your smug face is showing,” she pointed out. “I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“We’re learning a lot about each other on this holiday,” Cullen shrugged his pauldrons off. “Like… Ser Laurent.”

“Hm?”

“She’s a woman.”

“Yes.”

Cullen had so many questions, but suddenly lacked the words. “Er. So… did you, uh, you and her, I mean-” he fumbled, his fingers suddenly clumsy on his breastplate buckles.

“What do you mean, Commander?” Evelyn asked ignorantly, her eyes wide and innocent.

The thought of Laurent and Evelyn together. He began to feel the heat of the blush rising from his chest. “Are you asking if Ser Laurent and I… kissed?” she asked coyly. “Or if we… dallied? Our breasts heaving as we embraced, soft curves in the light of the moon, hot breath against wet lips-”

“Maker! Stop!” Cullen was blushing furiously. “F-forget I said anything!” He worked on the buckles of his breast plate.

Evelyn grinned at him and stood up, sauntering over to him with her hands behind her back. She turned and leaned herself against him, their breastplates clanging together. “Maybe we did,” she whispered in his ear.

Cullen stared at her wordlessly, his mind full of… images and a fire building in his loins. Suddenly his armour felt too tight. Evelyn’s tongue licked his scar slowly and deliberately, Cullen’s face burning. “Come join me in the bath and I’ll tell you all… about it…” she purred, her breath hot in his ear. “Some of it might even be true.” She stepped away and sauntered to the bathroom, her swaying hips drawing his eye as she began to shrug off her robes.

He had out-maneuvered Albrecht, yelled at a soldiers, and now Evelyn was… tempting him with tales of moonlit trysts with a beautiful Ser Laurent. Cullen was too turned on by the idea of Evelyn and Laurent to be jealous. Who cared if some of it were true? All in all, Cullen thought as he began to unbuckle his breastplate a little faster, it had been a good day.

++++

It was later when they were sated that Cullen leaned back in the marble bath, letting the glow of their lovemaking fade. Evelyn kissed his neck as she straddled him in the tub, her hands stroking his softening length under the milky limestone hot spring water. She pressed herself against him as he caught his breath. “Now,” she said, her wet breasts glistening in the light of the lit sconces. “Are you going to tell me why you got word from Leliana?”

Cullen sighed. “I had asked for information on Albrecht,” he gave in.

“As I expected,” she said, reaching for her bottle of West Hills brandy. She leaned over the lip of the tub and filled two glasses that sat on a side table. The water lapped around her round rump and naked mounds, drawing Cullen’s eyes. She handed him a glass of brandy. “Do I want to ask why you were finding out about Albrecht?”

“No,” Cullen sipped the brandy.

“As I also expected,” Evelyn looked at him knowingly over the rim of her glass. “What did Leliana send you?”

“Besides half the reports from Skyhold, she sent me information that Albrecht’s aunt died of an unknown malady. He was quickly made Arl after that. He’s since been sponsoring chantries. In particular, Andraste’s Ear, which he spends the most to maintain. It specializes in cleansings and confessions. I went to nose about, only to realize that mute children take confessions there - that’s what people tithe the chantry for. Silence.”

“And?”

“And Albrecht deals in information, doesn’t he?”

Evelyn sat on his lap. “You’re saying you suspect information gathered through confessions is passed on to Albrecht?”

“Maybe, I have no proof.”

“It only marginally implicates him. You might have uncovered one of his means of gathering information. It doesn’t tie him to any blood mages,” Evelyn said. “Don’t get carried away. I need you to stay rational, Cullen.”

“I’m always rational,” he said. “I’m the rational one in our marriage, hadn’t you noticed? Maker!” He sat bolt upright. “Did you just - pinch my bottom?”

“Sorry, just being irrational,” Evelyn sipped her brandy.

“Sweet Andraste,” Cullen chuckled.

“Albrecht is going to fight this investigation every step of the way,” Evelyn said seriously, her blue eyes glinting. “He feels snubbed. Even more snubbed when I gave him back the staff. Be careful, Cullen. You’ve made your first real enemy in Ostwick.”

Cullen leaned back against the tub. “It was bound to happen.”

 

++++

 

A week week had gone by. Ostwick was beginning to feel like Skyhold. Cullen had set up his desk in the barracks of the palace. He overlooked the training grounds from his second floor office and found the familiar sounds of clashing weapons of of the city guards training refreshing. Ehren stood in the balcony, watching the training with his arms crossed. In his fine doublet, Ehren looked out of place in the Barracks.

 

He and Ehren had been spending more time together - not just because the palace had agreed to host the Inquisition’s forces, but also because Cullen was helping Ehren to whip his Guards into some semblance of order. Quite a few had been laid off, many complaints had come in within the last week. Ehren was relieved to be able to finally take those angry letters from noble fathers and burn them.

 

Evelyn spent most of her days in the Palace, working with Arrington on growing a spine, as Cullen knew it. Arrington followed her around everywhere, each day meeting after meeting would require the Inquisitor’s presence - even when it really didn’t. Evelyn bore it. It would not do to have the Inquisitor tell the Teyrn of Ostwick to grow a spine, but she was helping him. He was happy to let her handle the politics. Maker knew she was better at it than he was.

 

Eduard was gone most days, ostensibly carousing. Cullen knew the young man used his poor reputation among among the nobles to his benefit. Information coming from Eduard was incredibly useful. He had word on almost every noble house in Ostwick. No one questioned if he vanished into the Lion every evening, not knowing that he had a way into the Warrens to serve as Red Jenny.

 

Speaking of the Lion, Cullen should probably talk to Evelyn about that. He was surprised that Albrecht had not made his move.

 

Cullen pored over a map of Ostwick and the Warrens, his brow furrowed as as he leaned on his knuckles. No sign of Keili in the Warrens was found despite sweeps by both the City Guards and Ser Laurent’s Templars. He prayed Keili was still in the City somewhere. Hunting her down across the Free Marches was not his idea of a summer well spent.

 

“They fight like washer women,” Ehren complained from the balcony.

 

“That would be an improvement,” Cullen noted wrily. “Those washer women have have a powerful swing with those beating sticks.”

 

“At least the training regimen you formulated is working,” Cullen said. “They look like they know how to poke a man with a sword. Hopefully, they will one day get good enough to do so without killing him.”

 

Cullen smiled. “Give them time. With one voice at the top, the Guard should be more cohesive,” he told Ehren. “You’re that voice now. You’re going to have to use it. Taking up martial arts might not be a bad idea.”

 

Ehren laughed. “I am handy with a sword, Commander. I just don’t see the reason to use it when I have words at my disposal,” he stood at the verandah with his hands behind his back, watching the training. “Perhaps I should pick up training again. Every tool at my disposal, correct?”

 

Cullen smiled at him. Every day, another victory.

 

“Commander.” Cullen looked up at Vieri at the door. She had put aside all pretense and now wore her Inquisition armour and hood. “Captain Rylen and his contingent have arrived along with some dispatches from Skyhold.” She set an open chest of papers on his desk. “These came off the ship.”

 

“Tell Rylen to settle the men in the palace barracks, we'll meet in an hour.”

 

“Yes, Commander,” Veiri saluted and left the office.

 

“Albrecht isn't going to be pleased with Inquisition soldiers living off the Teyrn’s coin,” Ehren said Albrecht Cullen moved to to the box to pull out some papers.

 

“Then he needs to learn what the word ‘alliance’ means,” Cullen said, pulling a sheaf of papers from the chest. He heard a tinkle of glass from within the chest. A tendril of smoke rising within an acrid smell. Cullen frowned.

 

And the world exploded.

  
Cullen could only see white, the ringing in his ears filling the universe. There was pain. Lots of pain. And heat. And screaming. Lots of screaming that faded into silence, drowned by the ringing in his ears and the darkness that closed around him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do take a moment to leave a comment! It only takes a minute from you, but it really encourages me to keep going. :)


	10. Hello, Cullen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Commander awakens gravely weakened to hear that both the Game and Keili have made their moves in his sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before you begin, please read the NEW ENDING of Chapter 9. Scroll down to after the line: Cullen leaned back against the tub. “It was bound to happen.” [Enter, the Inquisition](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4975639/chapters/11566738)

It was like floating in a warm bath. It was comforting and dark. It beckoned one to just lay down, to sleep. Occasionally, light would intrude on this darkness. Flashes of green that burned his face. Sometimes there were voices, prayers, whispers, sobs, snatches of the Chant of Light.

 

 _Though darkness closes around me_ , Cullen remembered dully as he hovered in the the dark. “I am shielded by flame…” he murmured. His voice echoed. Flame… there was a memory of fire and searing pain. What was he doing here?

 

It was so peaceful. He just wanted to sleep, to rest. Someone was calling his name. He didn't want to answer.

 

The calling faded.

 

Cullen shut his eyes and frowned, floating in the darkness of the Void, seemingly forever.

 

Time was passing. He didn't know how much time nor did he care. There were always words in the darkness, on the edge of hearing. As he floated, words grew stronger. His name was called out in the darkness, again and again. Words drifted through the Void.

 

_“Please…”_

 

_“Father…”_

 

_“Love…”_

 

They would vanish after a while. But they always came back. He grasped at the words, recognition tantalisingly out of reach. There was nothing here, no dreams, no memory. On in the darkness, buoyed by wings of sleep, he floated.

 

Then there was red. Thoughts of red, tendrils snaking into his mind. He could not shy away from them - thoughts that were not his own, coiling around him, hot to the touch yet his skin shivered from their embrace. There wasn’t even a voice for him to cry out with.

 

 _Leave me!_ His thought echoed in the depths of the red that swirled around him.

 

“Cullen.” The voice was clear.

 

Cullen froze. _Keili?_

 

“Cullen,” her voice breathed in his mind. “I was so scared you were dead! He’s gone too far, Cullen. He shouldn’t have done that to you, but you made him so angry.”

 

He resisted the urge to push her from his mind as much as her presence there made him feel violated. He steeled his thoughts. _Who did this?_

 

“Don’t worry, Cullen, I’ll take you away from it all. Give me time. I’ll save you.”

 

And she was gone, taking the red with her.

 

_Keili!_

 

++++

 

Then, light came. The darkness of the Void falling away away as he opened his eyes. He looked up at wooden rafters, lit by dying firelight. Keili’s voice still echoed in his head. Take him away?

 

He blinked, his head in a fog. He was lying on a bed under under a under a warm blanket, that was a good sign. He looked down to see a figure slumped over his body, half sitting on a chair by the bed, dark hair in disarray, eyes ringed and dark, asleep.

 

He willed his his arm to move, he lifted it weakly. “Eve,” he croaked. His throat dry like gravel. What happened? There was glass breaking and then… darkness, and Keili.

 

She opened her eyes groggily and saw him move. With a strangled cry she threw herself onto him, clinging tight, speaking nothing. He weakly lifted an arm, wrapping it around her. She touched his cheek with a shaking hand, her blue eyes filled with relief drank in his face. He could only blink at her blearily. She kissed him, murmuring against his lips, “Blessed be the Maker, blessed be the our most Holy Andraste. You have shielded my heart with fire and brought him out of darkness. Oh Cullen… Cullen, I thought you were dead…”

 

“What… happened…” Cullen groaned, his head… waking up. Pain bloomed on his right brow. He grit his teeth. It hurt like blazes. Evelyn sat beside him on the bed, his hand clasped in hers.

 

“Perhaps we should stoke the fire,” Cullen heard. He saw a woman cross the room.

 

“Leliana?” Cullen blinked, recognising the draw hood.

 

“It is good to see you awake, Commander,” Leliana said, stoking the fire to life once more, filling the room with light. “Do you remember what happened?”

 

“I remember glass… breaking,” Cullen frowned, trying to pull the memories from his jumbled thoughts.

 

“That was a bottle of active embrisium,” Evelyn said grimly, wiping her eyes roughly with her. “A powerful alchemical formula used to clear mines.”

 

“What about Ehren?” Cullen asked, the details slowly coming back to him through the fog of pain.

 

“He flew out the balcony and escaped most of the blast, thank the Maker,” Evelyn replied. “He's at home. You're in the Templar infirmary in the Tears.” Evelyn kissed his knuckles. “Jorick healed you. You took the full force of the blast. Your armour bore most of the brunt of the explosion, but you took a piece of shrapnel to the head.”

 

She touched his right brow, pain flared a new. Cullen winced. There was a poultice on his brow. “You have been unconscious for ten days, my heart,” her voice was small, vulnerable.

 

Cullen blinked, words were swirling around him but none were making sense. “Ten days?” he said slowly. “Who did it?”

 

“That is what I am here to ascertain,” Leliana said, her voice as cold and hard as a dagger to the throat. “Someone tried to kill you, Commander. The Inquisition will not let this slide. We will find the ones responsible, this I promise you.” She looked at Evelyn. “Inquisitor, if you can handle him, I should get the healers. We will speak more once I have learned enough.”

 

Evelyn nodded and Leliana left. Evelyn did not leave his side, not even when Jorick came to check on Cullen. The man was a master magical healer. His ruffled beard belied a quiet focus that enabled him to cast potent healing spells. Cullen wondered if he would have died, were Jorick not around to heal him. Probably. Cullen realized he wasn’t even that… upset by the thought that he could have died. It felt like he had, but had awoken despite it. Once you’ve been pushed off the cliff and realize you can fly, you begin to wonder what the fuss was all about. He was simply relieved to be alive.

 

“You certainly have luck on your side, Commander,” Jorick said in his deeply melodious voice, his hand glowing as he held it above Cullen’s brow. Blearily, Cullen wondered if the man could sing. “You could have wound up blind or with your head impaled. It was a big piece of wood that hurt you.”

 

“I don’t even know what happened,” Cullen said.

 

“You shielded your face with your bracers, we think, which is why your handsome face is still intact,” Jorick said. “Nevertheless, one bit got through. Still, thank the Maker you were fast enough. The Inquisitor was very angry when she found you.”

 

Evelyn had the decency to shift embarrassed as she stood at the foot of Cullen’s bed, her hand rubbing the stump of her arm.

 

“Angry?” Cullen murmured, touching his brow. It hurt less now.

 

“The word does not do her reaction justice,” Jorick said. He sat up. “Now I recommend food. I will have the Templars bring you something to eat. It’s Templar rations - plain but potent.” Jorick turned to Evelyn and waggled his finger. “He’s to eat it all.”

 

Evelyn nodded. Cullen did feel better after a meal, which Evelyn fed him while he sat propped up on the infirmary bed. He didn’t complain - he couldn’t. He felt as weak as a babe, but he did feel better after a meal.

 

Eventually, dawn came. Cullen sat up in bed, watching the sunrise through the window, breaking in through the mouth of the cavern of the Tears. It frightened him to think that he could have never seen another sunrise again, or watched it with Evelyn holding his hand. They held on to each other almost desperately, fingers intertwined, as if letting go would take away the moment - as if this were all a dream.

 

Evelyn licked her lips nervously. “Cullen,” she said quietly. “How much do you remember from your sleep?”

 

“Very little,” he lied, his voice weary and weak. Keili had been there, he was sure of it - the familiar feel of a blood mage’s touch upon the mind was unforgettable. “It was… dark.”

 

She took a deep breath, her hand squeezing his uncertainly. There was a polite tap on the door. Evelyn sighed silently, the moment lost. “Enter,” she said.

 

Leliana stepped into the room. “Inquisitor,” she said, apology in her tone. “There has been a summons from the Palace. Teyrn Arrington wishes an audience with you.”

 

Evelyn sighed loudly.

 

“Don’t worry,” Leliana smiled at Evelyn. “I can watch over the Commander while you are gone.”

 

Evelyn nodded and stood up. “I will be back soon,” she said, her voice hard, wearing the tone of authority once more.

 

Leliana sighed when the door shut and lowered her hood. “You gave us all quite a scare,” he smiled at Cullen as she smoothed down her fiery red hair.

 

“It wasn’t my idea,” Cullen replied.

 

“I have spoken firmly to Veiri, she had no idea the chest was tampered with. Still, we will make sure this does not happen again,” Leliana sighed, her eyes hard. “It was sheer luck that you survived. I cannot imagine what would happen if you didn’t.”

 

Cullen was silent. He couldn’t imagine it either.

 

“To brew such a potion would require a large amount of magic,” Leliana said. “I sent an enquiry to Madame Vivienne. It appears to be the work of a mage, a powerful one.”

 

“Keili?” Cullen suggested.

 

“It would be easy to assume that, but we mustn’t let that blind us. From what the Inquisitor told me, Keili does not seem to want you dead. No, someone else seeks to kill you and we may need you to play the bait to draw him out.”

 

Cullen nodded. “I don’t know what I can do right now,” he croaked. “I feel… weak.”

 

Leliana smiled. “You have been asleep for ten days,” she said. “Do not push yourself just yet. But it is imperative that you recover. And not just for the trap, before you say that.”

 

Cullen shut his mouth.

 

“You mean a lot to Evelyn,” Leliana said seriously. “If she were to lose you, I’m not sure what she would do. You are her heart. I do not know what would be left behind without you.”

 

Cullen sighed. “I… know,” he said softly. “Evelyn… when she loses herself, it is not pleasant. When things exploded and I was hurt… did she… do anything?”

 

“I heard that she was terrifying.” Leliana said softly. “When I arrived a week ago, I heard that she had already interrogated the dockworker who unloaded the document chest.” Leliana sighed. “Given a few years, the man may be able to walk again. But she did find out that he was a thrall of a blood mage. We believe that the Cult of the Stilled Tongue is on the move again.”

 

++++

 

Cullen drifted in and out of sleep for the rest of the morning and afternoon, his strength returning. He rested, ate and slept. Evelyn hovered over him night and day. She slept little no matter what he said, she was always by his bedside when she wasn’t at the Palace. But not even Evelyn could stop the Templar Infirmary from inevitably become an office by the night of the first day since he woke. Where power was, paperwork gravitated there. Cullen was back reading reports and giving commands even though he was in bed. Ten days unconcious, now he was stuck in bed - might as well catch up on the paperwork. He had acquired a bed table and was sitting up to read, at least. He was walking too, as the night wore on. That was a blessing. He would hate to have been infirm all his life. But he was still weak.

 

In the corner of his room was his armour, repaired and burnished thanks to Ser Laurent. But the thought of using it made him shudder. Still, Keili’s warning was not to be ignored. She was coming to get him, was she? Could he still help her as he wished? Did she know who sent the explosive? He was sure she knew who was funding her cult. If not for her madness, Cullen was sure she was the key to unraveling everything. By the morning of the second day since he awoke, Evelyn walked in on him buckling on his breastplate.

 

“What are you-” Evelyn breathed, holding a tray of breakfast.

 

“Good morning,” Cullen said. It took all his will to stand with the weight of his armour, but he’d be damned if he spent another day in bed. Twelve days was sufficient. He would get used to the weight.

 

“Cullen, you’re not well,” Evelyn snapped, setting the tray down on a table.

 

“I’m fine,” he insisted. “I can’t spend another day in bed, Eve. I’m going crazy in here.”

 

“You only woke up two days ago!”

 

“Twelve days of rest is enough. I can’t afford to be unprepared.”

 

Evelyn frowned. “Unprepared for what?”

 

Cullen sighed, shrugging to settle his armour in place. “For… anything that might happen.” He pulled his fur shawl over his shoulders and looked at her. “I need to tell you something, Eve,” he said seriously, buckling on his sword. She had to know about Keili's visit in his dreams. 

 

Evelyn took a deep breath. “I need to tell you something as well,” she said. She looked at him, her eyes vulnerable. “But only if you’re sitting down.”

 

Cullen raised an eyebrow. “Very well,” he said slowly, going to the bed to sit down. “It’s been a strange few weeks - much of which I cannot remember. Something tells me this is going to be big news.”

 

“One bit of news is more important than the other,” Evelyn said. “Which would you like first?”

 

“The… not so important one,” Cullen decided. When Evelyn was uncertain like this, it was best to start small.

 

“Right.” She took a deep breath. “When you went to Andraste’s Ear, did you make a confession?”

 

Cullen burst out laughing but stopped when the world started to spin. “Right, what did Albrecht tell you?”

 

Evelyn glared at him, his laughter unbalancing her. “He said you… slept with that elf from the Lion!”

 

“Hah!”

 

She held the stump of her arm. “It was a ruse? You knew he would tell me such a horrible bit of news about you - you know he couldn’t resist letting me know of your infidelity.”

 

“Yes,” he laughed. “When did he tell you this?”

 

“After Jorick stabilized you and I… calmed down,” Evelyn said. “You handed him bait for character assassination to see if he was indeed gathering information from Andraste’s Ear!”

 

Cullen smirked. “Would I do that, Eve?”

 

“I choose to believe you would do that rather than you actually slept with what’s her name!”

 

That wiped the smirk off his face. “Good point. Yes, I did make that entirely false confession. I didn’t sleep with any… elf girl, no matter how big-” he stopped himself in the blaze of her glare. “Er. That is- Maker. Still feeling- woozy. W-what was I talking about?”

 

He was glad for the way she was looking, and sounding like her old self - not like the implacable monster Leliana described her to be. “You were talking about big elf ti-” Evelyn began.

 

“ _The point is_ that now we know that Albrecht is using those children. I wanted to tell you earlier but… Frankly, things happened. Forgive me if that upset you.”

 

“It didn't upset me, it confused me! I don’t know which I disbelieved more - the fact that you would sleep with a buxom elf girl or the fact that you were playing the Game!”

 

Cullen laughed despite himself.

 

Evelyn sighed and looked a little more uncertain. “Now that that’s settled,” she said. “I… should tell you the second bit of news.”

 

Cullen saw her expression. His laughter ceased. “Oh dear.”

 

She bit her lip. But before the words left her lips, Cullen’s expression changed as he stood up, looking over Evelyn’s shoulder at the window of the Infirmary.

 

“Hello, Cullen,” Keili said.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Take a moment to leave a comment! It brightens my day and helps me improve in my writing - which helps me write more for you :)


	11. The Tears of Andraste

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There can be no rest for Cullen when Keili comes to save him as the Tears of Andraste run red with blood.

She floated. Keili hung in the air outside the window, framed by the light of the dawn streaming in through the cave mouth of the Tears. Cullen had no idea how that was possible, but Keili floated on thin air, her body enveloped in swirling red mist. Cullen had never seen blood magic like this before. He loosened the blade in its sheathe. Evelyn had already drawn the hilt of her sword.

 

Keili was smiling brightly at him through the cloud of red. “You’re awake,” she said. “I was worried.”

 

“How did you get here?” Evelyn asked. “We’re surrounded by Templars.”

 

“They will come soon, yes. If they live.”

 

An explosion rocked the infirmary at her words. Screams erupted, the sounds of clashing swords and the roar of –“Demons,” Evelyn growled. The bells of the Tears rang, echoing in the cave – a call to arms for mage and Templar alike.

 

“I just don’t want to be disturbed,” Keili said, stepping into the room. The red mist swirled about her, delicate ribbons in the air. Cullen drew his sword as Evelyn’s blade sprang to life. They stepped aside from each other as Keili continued to beam at them. “I said I came to save you, Cullen,” she said, her hands wide, beckoning to him.

 

“What?” Evelyn glared at him.

 

“I was going to tell you,” Cullen said. “She spoke to me when I was asleep. She said… she said that someone went too far with the explosion.” He looked at Keili. “Who sent the embrisium, Keili?” His eyes were intent.

 

She sighed heavily. “He made a mistake – he should not have hurt you,” she breathed, lowering her arms.

 

“Who made a mistake, Keili,” Cullen persisted, his voice almost gentle as he and Evelyn side stepped slowly, flanking her.

 

Whether Keili heard him or not, Cullen could not say. “Still,” Keili went on. “He won’t be able to hurt you if you’re with me. He needs me. Needs me to help him. He helps me too.” She shook her head, the red spray swirling faster, churning with whatever thoughts tormented her.

 

“Who is helping you?” Evelyn asked quietly.

 

Keili screamed suddenly, slashing a hand like claws. Evelyn pulled up a shield, blocking the red mist – the shield shattered in a flash of green. Cullen cried out dragged to his knees by the sudden weight in his bones. His sword was as heavy as mountain. Evelyn slammed back against the far wall, red blood caking her hand as she dangled against the stonel. She grit her teeth.

 

“Stay away from me!” Keili snarled, her eyes… changing. Something inside her, dark and malicious, was surfacing. Cullen could not move, his body weighed down, paralyzed. Keili’s hand was clawed as she held Evelyn up. Then she raised another hand. “Scream, for me Inquisitor – what a beautiful lullaby it would be, no?”

 

Cullen felt the spell fired. Evelyn stiffened against the wall, her scream rising to the rafters, rising from the depths of agony.  Evelyn’s ears began to bleed, the blood rising as if it were falling to the sky.

 

Cullen forced his head to move – every fibre of his being bending to his will. “Keili! Please stop!” he grunted, rising to one knee, fighting the force of her spell. If only he hadn’t been so weak! “No, my sweet,” she breathed. “Let her scream. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

 

The door slammed open, a blast of blue flaring in the room, blinding them all. Ser Laurent’s greatsword and armour flashed as she attacked, her body wreathed in the blue glow of lyrium. Keili blasted back a bolt of power, the blast dissipating on Ser Laurent’s blue glow. The Templar recovered her step immediately, slashing out once more. Her blade caught Keili on the shoulder. Keili screamed and stepped back. Ser Laurent charged in for the kill.

 

Keili’s eyes glowed red with the fires of rage. The blast of will was wreathed with red, blasting at Ser Laurent, who dodged the attack with a side step. The blade pierced Keili’s chest with a sickening noise of tearing flesh and breaking bone.

 

Keili hung from the blade, a look of surprise on her face, blood dripping from the wound. Then the blood rose, snaking in tendrils and flaring red up the length of Laurent’s sword to the Templar’s hand. Ser Laurent pulled at the blade, but suddenly stiffened, writhing in the air, Keili’s blood swirling around her. Ser Laurent’s ears began to bleed, blood pouring upwards from her eyes. Laurent screamed, her bunned hair becoming undone flared about her head like a blonde halo.

 

“Keili!” Cullen shouted. “Stop! I beg you!”

 

Keili pulled the sword from her chest, blood like dancing tendrils flaring from the wound. “She tried to hurt us, just like Greigor – we could have escaped if the doors were open, Cullen. Uldred’s blood mages wouldn’t have hurt us. He betrayed us both!” She spoke with two voices, one layered on top of the other – strange and metallic. He had to get her away from Evelyn – through any means necessary. His heart hammered in his chest. Fear filling his being. Evelyn could not die here.

 

“Let’s escape,” Cullen said suddenly. “Leave them – let’s just go. You and I!”

 

Keili turned to him, her eyes wide in astonishment as she looked at him through the red glow of fiery tears. She grinned. “Let’s kill them first – the Templar and the Inquisitor. It would be beautiful - a gift to you!”

 

In horror, Cullen saw Keili’s clawed hand twist. Evelyn stiffened again, blood flowing to the ceiling from her eyes. Laurent screamed in renewed pain. Evelyn wasn’t screaming, her eyes filled with blood and hatred. Keili twisted her claw. He heard the cracking of bone as Evelyn’s leg twisted with Keili’s gesture, her face turning a deathly white. But she refused to scream.

 

The weight of the spell on him weakened as Keili focused on her torture. He pushed himself to stand, slowly, every movement an orchestra of pain from every muscle in his body.

 

“Keili,” he said softly, dropping his sword. Blades did nothing to her. He had to save Evelyn. He had to. Keili turned at the tone of his voice.

 

He kissed her.

 

Ser Laurent’s scream ceased. Keili wrapped her arm around his neck, holding him almost tenderly. She smelled of blood and cinders. Cullen felt wretched, dirty, violated. But he couldn’t let Evelyn go through any more. He would do anything to save her. “Let’s go,” he murmured to her when their lips parted. Keili smiled softly at him, the humanity returning to her eyes, her wounds already closing.

 

“Cullen!” Evelyn finally screamed, fear in her voice for the first time since she had fallen out of the Fade.

 

She fell from the wall as Ser Laurent slumped to the ground unconscious, Keili releasing the spells on them both. Evelyn tried to stand on one leg. She whimpered and fell to the ground, her hand bleeding profusely, every bone in her fingers twisted grotesquely – she could not cast. Cullen watched Evelyn released from the torture, his face like stone, but his eyes full of fear. Their gazes met, their eyes pleading, frightened. Stay here, he begged with his gaze. 

 

Keili wrapped an arm around him from behind. “Don’t worry, Inquisitor,” she purred, looking at Evelyn from around Cullen’s shoulders, her other hand lovingly on his breastplate. “I’ll take care of him.”

 

She fell backwards out the window with Cullen in her arms. The world slowed. Cullen felt the weightlessness claim him, his eyes locked on Evelyn’s – helpless on the cusp of immeasurable loss. “Cullen!” her scream ripped through the air as he fell from view.

 

He saw red rise around him as they fell head first down the Tear – hanging in the air for what felt like an eternity. He could feel the fur from his shawl fluttering against his face, the air streaking by him. He could feel Keili’s hands on his body. He looked at the sunrise as he fell. It was beautiful despite the screams throughout the Tears. The bells sang their song of death and warning over Evelyn’s screaming his name. The Tears of Andraste ran red with blood. 

 

Was he going to die? For real this time?

 

He wished he could tell Evelyn that he loved her.

 

Red blood enveloped him, swirling in front of his eyes, blocking the light of the sun. Then the sea claimed them.

 

++++

 

The water was dark. Keili had found a way to move herself through the waters with her blood. The red swirled around him, a miasma, keeping the water away from them, enveloping them in a bubble of air. Cullen couldn’t move, bound in stasis in her spell. He hated this. It was a cage, like the one in the Circle. What had he done? This was madness. What was he thinking? But no blade could hurt Keili. He could think of no other way but to use her… strange infatuation.

 

They righted themselves, Cullen felt stone against his feet. He gasped and collapsed to his hands and knees onto the floor of the limestone cave when she let him go. He was shaking, his body on the edge of collapse. Keili held a hand over him. Cullen felt himself jerked to his feet, gritting his teeth as his muscles moved at Keili’s command. She sighed and touched his face as he stood paralyzed. “I’ll walk you to somewhere you can rest,” she said quietly. “Don’t fight it, or I might kill you.”

 

A chill went down Cullen’s spine as she spoke. She was so tender in her voice. The girl was mad! He stilled himself. Sure, he might die, but he hoped he wouldn’t die right here and now, in this dark cave. She walked him, jerkily. Each time he tried to tense a muscle, the pain that shot through his body was intense. He was being led through a tunnel deep in the rock. No wonder they couldn’t find her. She was deep within the bowels of the cliffs.

 

Cullen walked, not knowing how long he was moved through the darkness. He tried not to fight her puppet strings as she moved him. Water dripped down in the darkness but Keili needed no light to see by. He had no idea how she found her way about.

 

It was a long while later that light flooded the cave. The sound of water droplets receeded, his footfalls ringing on flagstones now. He saw light ahead through an archway. They were in… a basement of some sort. The room was large and round, a domed rotunda rising above bearing a lit bronze chandelier. The shelves were lined with jars of tongues, floating in their preservative liquid. Cullen’s mind shied away at the number of children who must have been hurt. Among the tongues were bottles of alchemical reagents, books, and food. She was living here.

 

Keili’s spell suddenly left him. Cullen collapsed to the ground with a grunt, his face pale and sweating despite the warmth of the room.

 

Keili was humming as she went to the shelves, selecting some bottles from among her reagents, ignoring him as she lay on the cold floor.

 

“Where are we?” he asked, his voice weak.

 

“My home,” she said with a giggle. “I’ll make you something to get you better.”

 

I would rather die, Cullen cried in the depths of his mind. But no, for now, he had to hope. His body may be weak, but there was more to him than a sword arm. “How did you learn all that?” he asked. “That blood magic… it’s… like nothing I’ve seen before.”

 

She beamed at him. “I learned it from the Spirit. It’s the Maker’s gift - my blood, my body, my magic, all of it.” She set down her bottles on a table and skipped over to him, her robes fluttering prettily about her ankles. Cullen kept the deeply disturbed look from his face. She yanked him up with her magic suddenly. He cried out in pain. “And the Maker saved us, Cullen,” she smiled, touching his face tenderly.

 

“He - he sent you the Spirit - the Maker sent him-” Cullen croaked.

 

Keili blinked thoughtfully. “That’s one way to look at it.”

 

“What spirit?” he winced.

 

She touched her lip, her brow furrowed with confusion as she looked at her bed. “A Choice spirit. You need a bed.” He grunted as he was roughly moved from where he was to the bed she had against one wall. He fell upon it like a sack of potatoes. He grunted when her spell left him and crawled onto the bed. He couldn’t do anything else - not yet. She returned to the table to… prepare whatever it was she was making.

 

What Choice Spirit? There was only one ‘Choice’ spirit that Cullen knew of, and Evelyn had killed it in Suledin Keep.

 

“Aren’t you injured?” he asked.

 

She snarled suddenly, smashing a bottle down on the table. The glass broke, shredding her hand. “That Templar!” she growled. “I should have brought more demons - killed them all! I didn’t want to be disturbed!”

 

Cullen stared at her as she closed her bleeding hand into a fist, the squelch of blood audible even where he lay on the bed across the room.

 

“But you’re hurt,” he said softly.

 

She walked to him. Cullen found himself actively flinching. She kissed him, smearing blood on his face. Cullen recoiled from the blood and the kiss instinctively. Her eyes flashed. “Your hand hurts-” he said quickly. “I don’t want to hurt you more.”

 

She laughed suddenly, smearing blood all over his face. Then she walked off back to her table. He stared ahead, a horrified look in his eyes, the blood hot against his face. He grit his teeth. He would either have to escape or kill her. The later option was beginning to be more favourable. To think, he thought that he could save her - stupid. He had no idea how dangerous she had become. Seeing what she did at the Tears, she had to die.

 

But not yet. He had to get to the bottom of this. He wiped the blood from his face as best he could and lay back in the bed. But first, rest - his body was betraying him. He could barely roll onto his back. He lay there, breathing hard, until sleep claimed him as Keili’s erratic and tuneless humming drifting on the edge of hearing.

 

There were no nightmares - he was already in one.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a long chapter, but it's darker than my usual. I can only take so much of Keili. Comment and let me know how you found it.


	12. Blood Red Roses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is Keili's song. You don't have to listen to it prior, but the tune is here for your reference: [ Blood Red Roses](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hosCuzo6JKo). Read at your own risk. Cullen does the worst thing he's ever done in his life right here.

Cullen awoke to a bitter, metallic taste in his mouth. He choked and sputtered, blinking blearily. Something flowed his cheeks as he spat out whatever was being poured down his throat. He gripped the wrist holding the goblet at his lips. He could feel the strength in his arm again. “What is this?” he growled. It tasted like blood.

 

He cried out suddenly as his body seized in the grip of a spell. Keili sat on her bed, looking down at him with a goblet, she frowned in disapproval, her other hand idly twirling a lock of his hair as he writhed in pain.

 

“A medicine,” she smiled. “It makes you stronger.”

 

The spell released his body, he sank back in the bed, breathing hard. “What’s in it?”

 

“You know a mage never tells,” Keili laughed. She pushed his hand aside and set the goblet to his lips. He couldn’t move. She poured the contents down his throat. He gagged but swallowed. It burned like fire going down, heat filling him from within. It was helping, whatever it was. His heart hammered in his chest, strength filling him.

 

Keili smiled and kissed his sweating forehead, standing up and heading to her table. Cullen realized he wasn’t wearing his armour. He couldn’t remember taking it off. His eyes darted around the room and saw his armour piled in the corner. He was only dressed in his tunic, which was untucked, and his breeches. What else had she done? His mind shied away from the thought, refusing to even contemplate it.

 

He tried to move. Pain erupted from his joints. He sank back down. He had to bide his time. He watched her at her table, humming that same strange tuneless song as she prepared… stew? She had conjured a firepit in the middle of the room. Cullen could smell the food being prepared in a pot over the pit. His stomach growled. Maker, he was hungry.

 

To his surprise, Keili let him sit up to eat on his own, the bowl on his lap. She didn’t speak and he wasn’t inclined to speak to her. She sat next to him as he ate. She ate nothing, merely watched him with her eyes wide.

 

He squirmed under her gaze. She looked through him with eyes like gimlets, her smile vapid. He averted his eyes as he ate. It was less uncomfortable, though her gaze still lingered on him. He heard the grinding of stone. A portion of the wall slid aside, light spilling into the room. Cullen saw a stairway beyond, spiralling upwards.

 

A figure came in, donned in a hood that blocked his face from the light. “Maker’s breath!” the figure exclaimed, seeing Cullen.

 

Keili smiled at the figure. “Hello,” she beamed.

 

“What is he doing here?” the man exploded. Cullen’s eyes narrowed. He knew that voice.

 

Keili wrapped her arms around Cullen’s neck. Cullen tried not to spill the stew. “I saved him. You shouldn’t have hurt him,” Keili frowned.

 

“That’s not for you to decide!” the man exploded. “Do you know what you’ve done? The Tears is in complete lockdown! It’s sheer and utter chaos out there! And you’ve riled up the Inquisitor! She has forces tearing the Warrens apart looking for you! That wasn’t part of the plan!”

 

Keili stuck her tongue out at him and nuzzled Cullen’s neck. Cullen’s face was stony. Evelyn was alive. And angry. That was a good sign. She was probably well, if Jorick was there to heal her.

 

The man struck Keili across the face, she sprawled back over the bed. “Bitch!” the figure raised his hand again. Cullen’s own hand shot out, catching the man’s wrist as he tried to strike Keili. “That’s enough, Albrecht,” Cullen growled.

 

The man hissed in shock. “And you left him awake!” Albrecht growled, his gray eyes flashing under the hood. He pulled his hand out of Cullen’s grasp.

 

Keili was whimpering as she sprawled over Cullen’s legs. She turned, her face pulled back in a snarl. She froze suddenly. Under Albrecht’s cloak, his hand moved to his hip. Cullen saw a glint of red at Albrecht’s belt as the cloak fluttered with his movement. It was a glow Cullen was familiar with. Red lyrium?

 

“Bind him,” Albrecht commanded.

 

Keili growled and stretched her clawed hands out to Cullen. Cullen grunted, his arms wrenched over his head and binding to the wall, a red mist around his wrists. The bowl of stew tumbled onto the ground.

 

Albrecht snorted as he looked at Cullen. He pulled his hood back. “You annoy me, Commander,” Albrecht’s voice was urbane.

“Albrecht,” Cullen acknowledged him coldly.

“Are you going to say ‘I should have known it was you’?”

 

“Why? I already knew it was you,” Cullen smirked. “Now you’ve just confirmed it.”

 

Albrecht glared at him, his eyes glinting like steel. “And how could you possibly have known?”

 

“The only one to profit from the children’s tongues is you,” Cullen said. “Gathering secrets through Andraste's Ears, gathering thralls. Are these your illustrious agents?”

“I never expected a stupid country bumpkin to cause me so much trouble. Couldn’t you just die like you were supposed to?”

 

“I never expected a noble Seneschal to be consorting with blood mages and stupidly failing to blow me up,” Cullen shot back. “We are evidently both surprised.”

 

Albrecht punched him across the face. Cullen had worse. He spat out blood from a wound in his cheek. Albrecht sighed. “I wanted to give you a quick and honorable death, Commander. All I wanted was Evelyn.”

“She will tear you limb from limb,” Cullen promised. “With her teeth. If there’s anything left, you can be assured that I will finish up.”

“How can you when you’re dead?” Albrecht chuckled. “The longer you stay hidden, the longer Evelyn stays in Ostwick. Once I convince her you’re dead, I’ll have the most powerful woman as my wife. What can’t I gain through the Inquisition? Markham? Kirkwall? The Free Marches? I already have Ostwick in the palm of my hand.”

“You think Evelyn would agree to your madness?” Cullen scoffed.

“I think Evelyn will be… suggestible.” He waved his hand extravagantly at Keili. “I have here the most powerful blood mage in the world - a blood mage who’s already subdued Evelyn once.”

Evelyn as Keili’s thrall. But Keili had nearly killed her at the Tears. No wonder Albrecht was enraged at what Keili had done. “You’re a fool to think that would work,” Cullen said plainly. “Evelyn has faced the likes of Envy, Imshael, Calpernia and Corypheus - and triumphed over them all. You will be but another to fall to her might. You and Keili both.”

Pain flared from his arms as the blood cut into him. He grit his teeth and endured it. Keili tutted softly, climbing over his stiff body to hug him. “Don’t say such mean things, Cullen,” she murmured almost lovingly.

Albrecht laughed. “It would be churlish of me to part Keili from her plaything,” he said. “You think you’re the first she’s kept to dally? You will end up the same as them as she feeds. I look forward to seeing you break, Commander. I hope you resist.”

Cullen gasped as the pain was released, his chest heaving against Keili, sweat beading his brow as his head slumped back against the wall. “Die in the Void, Albrecht,” Cullen growled, his arms on fire with pain.

Albrecht’s chuckle washed over him as he left the way he came, the stone door sliding shut - seeming more like a prison door than anything else. Cullen had never before wanted to kill a man so badly. But Keili - Keili was the key. He had to kill her first. Albrecht could be dealt with once his pet blood mage was out of the way.

Cullen felt Keili lay against him, his arms still bound overhead, his mind working quickly. “Why do you let him treat you like that?” he asked. In her madness, he would have to find her levers.

“Because he is my red gardener,” she sighed and held him closer. “But it’s alright. I have you now.”

Cullen resisted the urge to recoil from her grasp. “Yes,” he murmured. “You do.”

She looked up at him, her eyes wide, as if his words were completely unexpected. She raised herself and kissed him deeply, his hands bound above his head with her blood. Cullen let his senses calm, opening his mind to the feel of magic, even if inside he was screaming in disgust. Some things you never truly lose as a Templar.

He could feel the magic from her, feel the power she carried. Something was inside her, sounding out like a clear tune over the hum of residual magic in the air. She parted the kiss, a thin trail of saliva joining their tongues like a glittering spider’s web. Cullen’s eyes met hers, the deep glow of red amidst the gentle brown. Inside, he screamed and banged on the walls, hating every minute of this.

“Let me hold you,” he whispered, pushing down the rising wave of disgust that rose within him.

Her eyes softened. He felt the blood vanish, freeing his hands. His arms were shaking as he wrapped them around her tenderly, his wrists red and raw. She snuggled in his arms, humming once more. Cullen held her, listening to her humming.

There was a tune there - just one he had never heard before. She hummed it again and again until sleep claimed her.

He sat with her in the dying light of her fire, her quiet breath against his body. The plan came to him as she slumbered. He felt like a wretch for what he was about to do, but Keili… had to die.

++++

He was awake before her the following day, if it was daytime. There was no passage of time here - no knowing if it were day or night. He slipped out of her arms, his wrists still red and raw. Cullen went to her shelf of food. He found meats there, deep mushroom and other condiments. He glanced at her on the bed and took what he needed. He went to the table where she prepared meals. There was a cutting board there, with a knife stuck in it. He heard her stirring on the bed. “Good morning, I think,” he said over his shoulder as he began to prepare breakfast.

She sat up in bed and snarled at the sight of him with the knife. Cullen felt himself freeze as pain blazed through him, arching his back as he twisted in the spell. He sank to the ground, his bones bowed under the weight of her spell. “What are you doing?” Keili growled.

“Making- breakfast-” Cullen said through grit teeth. If he had not already survived this torture already for days on end, he was sure he would have been dead long ago. But he had to survive. He had to kill Keili.

He felt the uncertainty in her spell, but it finally released him. Cullen was breathing heavily when the spell left his body. So, she had to have him in her sights… He stood up and leaned against the table for support. “Do you eat breakfast?” Cullen asked, keeping his voice warm.

“I do not eat,” Keili said. “Not food like this.”

“I’ll cook for one then,” Cullen murmured. “How can you survive without food?”

Keili giggled. He heard her skipping over to him, throwing her arms around his waist from behind. He had the haunting realization that she was… lonely. It did not make things any easier for him. “I have tongues,” she said, leaning her cheek against his back.

“You eat them?” Cullen asked, his face turning pale.

“Sort of. It keeps me alive and my roses blooming.”

“Roses?” Cullen asked, looking at her over his shoulder.

She smiled up at him, red in her eyes. “My blood red roses,” she said as she tiptoed to kiss him.

Cullen did not understand, but she did not speak more, once again humming that tune. Cullen fell silent, taking the knife to cut the meats and vegetables. He listened to her tune washing over him. The more he listened, the more it fell into place. She seemed to relish just holding him. As she hummed, his eyes moved to the shelves of tongues. Here he could see that not all the tongues were tiny like in the Warrens Chantry. Some were full grown. What dark magic was she working-

He hissed, nicking his finger with the knife. She reached around him to cradle his injured hand with hers. Blood flowed from her pores and over his hand. Cullen stiffened as the blood flowed over his skin - he could feel the heat of her body in the blood. The blood flowed over the wound, leaving only a faint scar in its wake. Then the blood vanished, fading into the air. “That’s all your blood,” Cullen breathed in realization. Everything she had done - every spell she had cast that day at the Tears, it was through her blood. She should be dead.

Her humming faded to words now. “ _A storm is loosed upon the sea whose eye is stained with tears. A wretch Hell-bound and bent on blood, the makings of the fearful's fears…_ ” she sang, her voice child-like and forlorn. “ _The tide it stole away her grace, the depths, they wouldn't claim her. A toil begat by father's blood, this path was laid before her..._ ”

She smiled up at him and saw him looking at her. She kissed his ear and let him go, skipping off to rekindle the fire. Cullen looked down at his hand, healed by her blood. No one has that much blood within them. Blood red roses and the glint in her eyes… what did she mean? “ _Redemption borne by brigand's blood, a blight upon the darkness,_ ” She sang as she waved her hand above the firepit. The fire flared to life, her eyes flaring red with the firelight. Cullen’s eyes narrowed. “ _The pact embraced, a road unsought, the Maiden of Death won't be unwrought..._ ”  She slipped into humming once more, dancing to the song in her head, twirling daintily around the fire, her hands behind her back as if it were a Summer Fair.

Cullen’s hand gripped the knife. If only a quick knife to the heart would hurt her - but she would kill him before he even got close. He watched her twirl, her eyes shut as the song rose again, beautiful and terrifying in her own way. “ _The Maiden of Death won’t be unwrought…_ ”

++++

Cullen had no idea how long time had passed. When he was tired, he slept. Otherwise, he watched Keili in her… madness. She would sometimes sing that haunting song, or spend hours weeping. Her embraces were sudden, as were her dark moments - when the slightest thing he said or didn’t say would end up with him writhing on the floor under her spell. Sometimes she would bind him to the wall for hours and leave the basement through the dark tunnel. When she returned, she would bring food, or sometimes nothing at all.

Then there was the day she returned with a tongue. Bound to the wall, Cullen watched her seal the tongue into a jar, where it swirled forlornly. Keili saw him watching and giggled. “Don’t worry,” she said. “She was an ugly little girl anyway.”

Cullen swallowed the horror her words aroused in him.

The sliding wall parted slightly, a shadow waiting on the threshold, hooded and slight. Cullen saw the hood turn to glance at him, shackled to the wall like a bearskin on display.

“H-he asked if you’ve fed,” the figure asked. It wasn’t Albrecht, the voice sounded far too young.

Keili giggled, looking archly at Cullen. “I will soon,” she said. “Now go away, I have to prepare.”

“H-he says you must now. You are needed.” The wall slid shut.

Cullen looked at Keili. “What do you mean fed?”

Keili walked to him, laying her hand on his abdomen. “Cullen,” she breathed, leaning against him and holding him. She seemed to just… like saying his name. Maker’s breath, she was a broken girl who has become far too dangerous for her own good.

“You said you fed on tongues,” Cullen warmly.

“Sort of, if nothing else is available,” she murmured against his chest. “But for my roses to bloom… for my greatest power, there’s another way.”

She looked at him with her eyes glinting red. “Cullen, you have a choice,” she smiled warmly. “Evelyn is going to be hurt soon. That’s the plan. Don’t get upset!” She saw the expression of futile rage fleet across his face before he could stop himself. “Don’t worry, you have a choice! I don’t want to hurt her badly, but I need her. If you choose to… help me, I’ll promise you Evelyn is not killed.”

Cullen’s hands strained against the blood shackles as he got a hold of himself. Keili would die. It had to happen. Even if he didn’t succeed in killing her, he would stop her magic. He nodded. “Then let me help you,” he said. “Not for Evelyn.”

She blinked. “What?” she said.

“I want to help you, not for Evelyn. You have been good to me, Keili,” he lied. “You saved me, remember?”

Keili’s eyes lit up. Cullen frowned slightly as he felt the wall gently shake in a tremor. Earthquake?

“What must I do?” Cullen asked.

The blood faded from his wrists and he slipped to the floor. Keili leaned in his ear and whispered to him, his face paling but his expression determined. “I will not do it bound,” he said. He touched her chin gently. She pushed his hand away from her face. Cullen let his eyes lock with hers. “I would pleasure you as well. Meals should be enjoyed. I would like this one to be a meal to remember.”

Keili blushed as he lifted her to the bed, setting aside all thought. He lay her down. She was tiny in his arms.

He lay on top of her, her hands travelling over his body, to the neck of his tunic. Cullen hid his surprise when she ripped open his tunic - her strength unnaturally powerful for a mage. He shrugged the ripped tunic aside as he leaned over her, propping himself up on one arm. His hand moved across the mounds of her breasts, his face stony as he watched her reaction. She squirmed under him, her fingers unlacing his breeches and slipping in, stroking him. He wasn’t even aroused despite her machinations. He lowered his hand to pull up her skirt, moving himself out of reach of her before she realized he wasn’t responding to her touch despite his words. There was another tremor. The chandelier rocked and began to gently swing.

Keili watched him as he spread her legs, exposing her. His fingers ran over her mound, hard and caloused against her skin. She moaned under him. Cullen saw a glint of red in her eyes as he felt magic seeming to gather around them like moths to a flame. This was old magic… The oldest blood magic of all. He rubbed her gently, pressing down on the little bud that made her moan, her hands gripping the arm that propped him up. He could feel crystaline shards under his skin as she gripped him, he could see the glint of red lyrium at her touch.

He slipped a finger in, pleasuring her as he bent to kiss her neck. She did not push him away this time. He found that spot within her, pressing down on it, rubbing it in the way he knew drove Evelyn crazy. It worked on Keili. She moaned loudly under him, her body writhing in pleasure. He could hear the quiet sounds of crystalization around him, the sheets beginning to glitter under Keili. He saw the lyrium rising up his arm from where she had touched him.

Cullen turned his gaze back to her, the wetness around his fingers sounding loud as he pleasured her. Her breath was on his face, her red glinting eyes closing as she moaned in pleasure, writhing her hips on his fingers. His hand drove into her harder, faster, matching the movement of her hips and the rythm of her gasps. He saw her rising in the heights of orgasm - the lyrium on his skin had reached to his shoulder. Cullen heard her cry out suddenly, her body arching in the throes of pleasure.

“ _Cullen!_ ” she screamed his name, her voice quivering with pleasure and… affection. He watched her writhe and brought both his hands to her quivering face as the orgasm raked through her. She needed to see him to lock her spells onto him. Maker forgive me, he thought wretchedly, I have to do this.

He leaned over her and pressed his thumbs to her eyes.

She screamed as be sharply brought his full weight to bear, blood spattering over him. A blast knocked him off the bed across the room as another tremor shook the basement. Cullen felt his head hitting the wall and he slumped to the ground. He heard her screaming, screaming, screaming in pain and betrayal.

She was kneeling on the bed, her clothes in disarray, her hands covered with blood that flowed from the two hollows that were her eyes. Cullen swallowed the guilt that rose in him. It had to be done! She had to die. He pushed himself to his feet and ran for the only knife it the room. She heard him, cocking her head at the sound of his footsteps and her scream turned to rage. Cullen felt the magic and dodged as the blood fired overhead. Blood began swirling in the room now, pouring out from her gouged eyes.

Cullen reached the knife and gripped it with bloody hands. He ducked behind the table as a ribbon of blood cut across the air, her screams echoing from the depths of sorrow.

Another tremor rocked the room, as the glass jars of tongues began to rattle on their shelves the chandelier swinging now. Keili couldn’t hear him with all the rattling. She stood on the bed, her hair flaring about her head as the blood swirled around her faster and faster.

“You destroyed them!” she snarled, her voice overlaid with another, darker and metalic. “You destroyed my roses! My roses - he gave them to me! The spirit gave them to me!”

Cullen had to get close enough to kill her. Fuck! He was supposed to have killed her then and there on the bed - he wasn’t expecting the blast. All he had was this fucking kitchen knife and breeches!

“You lied to me! You betrayed me!” Keili snarled, waves of power flowing from her. Cullen felt the table rattle across the floor, pushing him against the wall. “How could you! How could you! I saved you!”

Cullen looked over the table. Keili was listening, her body poised to kill, wreathed in a swirling tornado of blood from her own eyes. Cullen grabbed the cutting board and threw it. It caught in the swirl of the miasma of blood and was sent ricochetting into the the shelves of tongues. Keili screamed in rage, her blood whipping out at the sound of breaking glass. Cullen ran out from behind the table and charged into the bloody tornado.

His skin shredded, his body burned at the touch of her blood, but nothing could stop his inexorable leap. He stabbed the knife into kidney. She gasped and stiffened, the tornado of blood swirling out of her grasp and spattering across walls and ceiling. He drew the knife out and aimed for her heart.

The blood began to coil around him from the wound in her kidney. Cullen pulled away, the spell closing on him.

An explosion blew out part of the wall, shelves and jars sent scattering from the force of the blast. Lightning wreathed Keili, flaring like a thousand suns. She screamed and spasmed as Cullen was thrown clear.

Evelyn stood at the broken wall, rocks forming an armour around her, her eyes glowing with the blue of mana and lightning. She did not release her lightning, her hand stretched out with unshakable determination, lightning arcing out and ripping shelves apart. Cullen felt himself locked suddenly in a spell shield - arching lightning flickering across the shield.

Keili twisted and spasmed and screamed - loss and pain and betrayal and sorrow. She reached out to him once, refusing to die.

Evelyn closed her hand into a fist. The lightning flaring so bright that Cullen had to close his eyes, the glow burning his eyes through his eyelids.

Then it faded, leaving nothing but the ringing in his ears and the sickening smell of blood on his body. Keili slumped on the bed, a burnt husk infused with the glow of red lyrium. The spell shield faded from him as he stood. Keili still quivered. Her voice was weak but it was there, whispering a last song as her body crumbled to cinders. “ _...Her wrath is known throughout the black, the gardens of death she is tending. Vengeance is her only ward, beware the blood red rose's thorn…._ ”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so Keili meets her end - possibly. Comment and let me know what you think of this... most f-ed up chapter I've written so far. Let me know even if you hated it :) Any feedback is good feedback.


	13. The Forbidden One

Keili lay dead, a burning husk of red lyrium was all that was left of her, laying on the cinders of the bed. Cullen felt like throwing up. He turned away from the sight of her. “Maker forgive me,” he breathed hoarsely. The pain he had ignored came sweeping over him. His skin was shredded and his hands were deeply cut by the kitchen knife. He dropped the blade and staggered - sick with disgust at what he had done.

 

It had to be done, Cullen told himself. He looked down at his arm, caked with red lyrium and brushed the crystals off in disgust, it felt like filth against his skin. Then he threw up regardless. A veteran and a soldier… throwing up after a battle. But he had never deliberately caused so much mage before, let alone a woman. Not when she was at her most vulnerable. Maker, what sort of a monster was he?

 

And then Evelyn was there, her robes of dragon scale glowing in the swinging light of the chandelier, her eyes filled with worry and relief. Cullen wrapped his arms around her, his eyes wet with tears as they embraced. “I’m sorry I took so long,” Evelyn breathed against his body. He felt a warm glow of her healing magic washing over him, his wounds closing. He had no words to say. Everything was like a bad dream, like living in a nightmare. And what he had to do…

 

Evelyn looked up at him. “I’m just glad you’re here,” Cullen said, meaning every word. “We have a man to find, Evelyn.” The one behind it all - the one who sent Keili to kill. “I know who did this.”

 

“Who?” Evelyn asked intently.

 

Cullen went to his pile of armour and started pulling on his leather jerkin. “Albrecht,” he said, focusing on the task at hand like his life depended on it. In a way, his sanity certainly did.

 

“We suspected he had accomplices. Your lead on Andraste’s Ear was useful for our investigation,” Leliana said as she entered through the hole in the wall. Beyond, Cullen could see a passageway blasted into the limestone. Evelyn must have blown her way through the rock. Leliana took in the scene. If she was upset by that she saw, her stoic face did not show it.

 

“Do you know how to get to him?” Evelyn asked

 

Cullen nodded, lacing up his jerkin and beginning to put on his armour. “How long have I been down here?” Cullen asked.

 

“It’s been six days since the Assault on the Tears,” Leliana replied. “Our forces are killing demons as we speak.”

 

“It feels like longer,” Cullen murmured.

 

“No doubt,” Leliana said, her eyes watchful. He felt Evelyn watching him too, as if he were about to explode or break down or something. Stupid. He was fine. For now. He’d deal with the feelings later.

 

Eduard entered behind her, even the hardened Red Jenny paling at the scattered tongues and Keili’s burnt corpse. “Maker’s breath,” he muttered. He carried a sword and shield on his shoulders. “These are yours. Eve insisted we bring them before she… blasted a tunnel here.”

 

“How did you find me?” Cullen asked.

 

“The boy we found in the Warrens,” Evelyn said. “He’s fade-touched. A spirit revealed where Keili was. It said she was in pain, that you were trying to save her.” Her eyes moistened barely perceptibly. “It said that you might die doing it.”

 

“I nearly did,” Cullen grunted, shrugging his breastplate into place. He donned his shawl, sword and shield. He felt like his old self. “You came for me, though, as always. I didn’t stop believing.”

 

Evelyn nodded. “Always, Cullen,” she said, her voice like iron, unbreakable in her will. “Show me the way.”

 

Cullen pointed at the sliding door. Evelyn gathered her will.

 

“Wait!” Eduard said, dashing in front of her, holding up his hands. “Before you bring the ceiling down on us, stop and think. It’s possible they don’t know we’re here.”

 

“How can that be possible?” Evelyn asked. “I blew a hole through a hundred feet of rock.”

 

“No one keeps someone like Keili close to their house. It's possible they didn't hear us yet. We may be able to sneak in,” Eduard turned to the wall. “If I can’t open it, then you can blow a hole in it, alright?”

 

“The young man’s idea is a good one,” Leliana replied. “More can be gained from catching them by surprise than by tearing our way through.”

 

“See?” Eduard said as he took out his dagger. He frowned as he found a crack in the wall between two stones, wedged his dagger in and began working with his lock picks. “This door is built like a prison,” said Eduard. “They lock the door from the outside.”

 

“Then they had no idea about her tunnel here,” Cullen said. Something clicked in the door. Eduard and Cullen pushed the door aside. There was a stairway beyond, shrouded in darkness. Eduard opened a pouch of his deep mushroom extract and rubbed it hard. He opened it and blue light flooded out into the room.

 

“Ooh, you’ll have to show me how you make that,” Leliana said appreciatively. Eduard blushed and walked on ahead.

 

The stairway wound upwards, dark and foreboding. There was the smell of algae here and the stone steps were insidiously slippery. Cullen climbed, his body… stronger. Whatever Keili had given him had indeed helped him recover. He took point with blade held low and shield at the ready. Their passage opened up into a long corridor, leading straight through the rock. It was poorly maintained by passable. There was the sound of trickling darkness here.

 

As they walked, Cullen could feel spaces yawning out to the passage. Dungeons with iron bars long rusted away gaped at them. Some has the sad remains of skeletons, hands outstretched for decaying clay jugs placed just out of reach. It began to smell of sewage and fetid decay.

 

They eventually found their way barred by heavy wooden doors, runes carved in its face. Evelyn winced painfully as the wards began to glow gently in her presence. “These are wards,” she said. “They… keep mages away.”

 

“I am no mage,” Eduard said, whipping out his lock picks and kneeling before the door's massive lock. “But I can work some magic.”

 

As Eduard worked at picking the lock, Leliana watched him with curiosity. “Couldn't you do that just as easily?” Cullen asked her.

 

“But the little thief is having such fun,” Leliana chuckled.

 

Eduard shot her an outraged look. “Madame! I am but a simple noble who fell in with bad company!”

 

“We all know what you are,” Evelyn said.

 

“And we're glad for it,” Cullen added.

 

Eduard glanced at him smirked at the open praise. The lock clicked open alarmingly loudly in the dark. Once the doors swung out, the wards faded.

 

Cullen stepped through. They were in a proper basement this time, boxes and old statues under sheets lining the walls, huge casks dominating the centre of the room, all pools of shadow in the darkness, lit dimly by Eduard’s tiny pouch. There was a sudden clattering behind them. Corpses from the cells were rising with the hiss of demons. Cullen saw them crawling to their feet when the whole tunnel burst into flame, fire blazing from Evelyn’s hand as the very ground itself sprang to wrap itself around her, a floating armour of rocks.

 

The corpses writhed in the flames. “Get in the door!” Leliana snapped. Evelyn ceased the flames and raised a wall of ice before her. They fled through the door, shutting and barring it from within.

 

There was the sound of breaking ice from beyond the door. Cullen checked the crossbar of the door. It held firm. He looked at Evelyn, the armour falling from her body. She had never used such defensive spells before - not even when facing the demon in Vintiver.

 

The door shook suddenly as the corpses banged on it from the other side, but the wards and the wood held fast.

 

Evelyn sighed. “Let’s keep moving,” she commanded. Cullen moved to the front and led the way. They climbed more stairs, the place feeling like a home now. It was indeed a home, the basement stairs opening up suddenly to a kitchen. A maid gasp when they emerged, spilling her bucket of water as she saw them.

 

“Whose house is this?” Cullen growled.

 

The maid screamed and ran at the sight of him.

 

Eduard dashed forward, his chain shooting out from around his wrist, wrapping itself around the maid’s waist. He pulled her back to him and covered her mouth with his hand, cutting her screaming off. He whispered something in her ear. Her eyes widened. “You’re her!” she breathed as Eduard let her go.

 

“Him,” Eduard said. “But, yes. I am a Friend.”

 

The maid gripped the lapel of his leathers urgently. “Maker, you must stop him!” she whispered, terror in her eyes. “He’s… he’s got this red stuff! He’s putting it into servants!”

 

“What red stuff?” Evelyn asked gently.

 

“Red.. stuff,” the maid said, looking at her uncertainly.

 

“They are also Friends,” Eduard assured the maid.

 

She nodded and licked her cracked lips. “The Arl has red stones - it hurts when you eat it. We’ve been eating it, he made us do it; said we’d be killed if we didn’t,” she whispered. “Me sister, she- she’s gone. She’s in his rose garden.”

 

“This red stuff, are they red stones that glow?” Evelyn asked.

 

The maid nodded.

 

Red lyrium, Cullen thought. Albrecht had a rose garden, did he? Blood red roses… He bit down the rising rage.

 

“Where are we?” Evelyn asked.

 

“You’re in… in Arl Du Grace’s mansion,” the maid said, trembling.

 

“And where is he?”

 

“In his study, with His Lordship Arrington.”

 

“Where is that?”

 

“Up the grand staircase - third door on the left.” She paused, shaking and pale. “He’ll kill me for telling you!”

 

“He’ll die first,” said Evelyn, steel in her voice. “I want you to go down to the basement - hide there. Do not - no matter what, do not open that door down there. We will send Inquisition soldiers to rescue you in a while. Should anything happen here, escape to Captain Rylen at the palace. Tell him the Commander sent you.”

 

The maid bit her lip and nodded, hurrying past them into the basement.

 

“Arl Du Grace is growing red lyrium in people,” Leliana said.

 

“Keili had it in her eyes,” Cullen said quietly. “It helped her… feed on people. She augmented her power that way.”

 

“Albrecht will die,” she said. “Either here or at Skyhold. It is his choice.” She waved her arm, donning her armour of floating rocks that snapped and popped from the floor’s stones. “Whatever happens, keep the Teyrn alive. He has no heir - the power vacuum will tear Ostwick apart.”

 

Eduard nodded. “I can put him to sleep,” he said.

 

“A sleep powder?” Leliana asked.

 

“Yes. We can bind him, interrogate him later after we’ve investigated his holdings,” Eduard replied. “When I say ‘we’, I mean the Inquisition.”

 

“We’ll talk about hiring you when this is over,” Evelyn said. “Leliana has her eye on you.”

 

Leliana chuckled. “I think you would be useful to have around, Master Trevelyan” she said to Eduard. Cullen saw the young man turn away from Leliana as he blushed like a village girl.

 

Cullen took point once more, leading the way up the stairs from the kitchen where they emerged in the ornate dining room. There were no servants here. Beyond the dining room, they came to the main hall. The second floor overlooked a grand staircase. Cullen could hear two voices arguing from above.

 

They climbed the stairs, Cullen’s heart hammering in his ears. He was so angry. All that he had to do, all that he’d been through - all that Keili has to suffer as she was exploited - because of Albrecht. As they crept up to the door, he couldn’t take anymore.

 

“Okay, so first, we listen-” Eduard whispered behind him.

 

Cullen kicked the door it, nearly ripping it off its hinges.

 

“Damn it, Cullen!” he heard Eduard snap at him.

 

Albrecht stood up from an oaken chair behind his study table, a look of shock on his face. “You!” he snarled. Teyrn Arrington gasped at the sight of Cullen amidst the falling splinters of the door. Cullen could hear Evelyn calling him, her voice on the edge of hearing as he charged into the room. Arrington scampered out of the way, but Albrecht was transfixed at the sight of Cullen’s steely glare.

 

Cullen vaulted on the table, his blade flashing in the firelight. Albrecht cried out and ducked as Cullen severed the top of the back of his chair clean off. Cullen wasn’t even growling or snarling. He was so far beyond the fires of rage that he had reached the icy plateau of vengeance. Albrecht was pouring with sweat as Cullen leveled the sword at his neck. He looked up at Cullen, standing on the table.

 

“Cullen!” Evelyn’s words reached him at last.

 

Cullen’s eye twitched, his body wound like a spring. “Just one word, Albrecht,” Cullen warned through clenched teeth, his voice deceptively soft. “One word wrong, one breath wrong, and I will cut your guts out and strangle you with them! Maker help me - give me a reason to tear you apart!”

 

“You are a savage!” Albrecht shouted. “Why are you here! You have no right!”

 

“Cut the bullshit, Albrecht!” Evelyn growled. “We know about your sponsorship of the Cult. We know about Keili’s partnership with you. The only question now is whether you die at my husbands hands or mine.” Her blue eyes were hard. “Personally, I would love to give Cullen the chance. I’ve never seen a man strangled with his own intestines before."

 

Albrecht paled. “Now let's act like civilized people, here. You can't level such an accusation like that, Evelyn. What proof do you have? You have nothing but the word of this savage! And we all know he has ulterior motives to frame me. The other nations would never believe this!”

 

“Perhaps I should leave you in Ostwick, then,” Evelyn snarled. “Jorick would love to oversee your punishment. Ser Laurent would also devise something suitable - Templars are a simple bunch with blades. After Keili’s death, Laurent has no one to unleash her vengeance upon.”

 

Arrington paled. “She’s dead?” he breathed.

 

“Yes,” Cullen said simply. “She had to die.”

 

Arrington snarled suddenly. “You said she wouldn’t die!” he yelled, furious tears coming to his eyes.

 

“Shut up!” Albrecht snapped at the Teyrn.

 

“My lord Arrington?” Evelyn said to the young man, approaching him slowly.

 

“You said you would protect her! She wasn’t supposed to die!” Arrington yelled, rounding on Albrecht in the chair.

 

“I said shut up, you imbescile!” Albrecht shouted.

 

“No!” Arrington screamed, charging at Albrecht out of Evelyn’s reach. Leliana raised her bow but hesitated.

 

“Lord Arrington!” Evelyn cried.

 

With tears in his eyes, Arrington grabbed Cullen’s sword blade with his bare hands, wrenching it from his grasp with unexpected force. Cullen moved to stop him, time slowing as Arrington raised the blade on Albrecht. A blast of energy knocked Cullen from the table. It came from Arrington, Cullen realized in horror as he landed across the room as Evelyn staggered back from the force.

 

The sword pierced Albrecht’s chest, pinning him to the chair. Arrington was weeping as he held the blade with bloody hands. Albrecht stared at the Teyrn, his eyes gaping in shock. He coughed blood as Arrington twisted the sword in him.

 

“You lied to me! You said we had a choice… I didn’t want this…” Arrington wept, his bloody hands slipping from the blade as he slumped to the floor by Albrecht’s desk. There was a blast from his body, rocking the shelves of books and pushing the heavy oak table back, throwing Leliana and Eduard to the ground. Arrington’s eyes flared purple as his body arched back, hands clawed in pain. Something fled from the boy’s being, leaving laughter in its wake as it faded in a blast of green.

 

“What was that!” Eduard exclaimed, picking himself up.

 

“Imshael,” Evelyn growled, getting to her feet.

 

“Didn't he die at Suledin Keep?" Cullen asked. 

 

“No demon truly dies,” her eyes were hard as she looked at the slumped and weeping form of Teyrn Arrington. “They always come back - the Forbidden Ones are older than the darkspawn. They _always_ come back.”

 

She stepped beside Arrington and knelt down before the boy. “Talk to us.”

 

Arrington shook his head wretchedly. “She was my sister… Albrecht said he could save her from Aeonar if I… If I helped him,” Arrington said, not looking up.

 

“Helped him?”

 

“Become Arl… but Keili was sick, a spirit was making her sick…” he wept into hands covered in blood. “He said he could protect her if I held the spirit for her. I tried to help her. I tried to save her… Maker forgive me - why did I listen to his choice?”

 

Evelyn’s eyes hardened. “You carried Imshael?”

 

“It was helping her! Albrecht said the spirit was helping us too - it showed Albrecht how to grow red lyrium. It made Keili strong. I thought she was… getting better. I’m such a fool, Evelyn, I’m such a fool! Why did I listen?”

 

Evelyn stood up and looked at the dead form of Albrecht, then back at the Teyrn. “You have caused untold misery to your people, Teyrn Arrington,” she said coldly. “I will judge you back in Skyhold.” Arrington was too broken to respond, he only hung his head and wept futile tears. Evelyn nodded at Leliana and Eduard, who moved to bind the weeping Teyrn.

 

As Arrington was being led away, Cullen walked up to Albrecht, the man’s gray eyes staring ahead, as cold and dead as slate. Cullen pulled his blade from Albrecht’s body slowly and deliberately, a cold laden feeling in his chest. Vengeance was over, though it was not by his hand. Albrecht deserved this and more.

 

He felt a touch on his shoulder and flinched away. Evelyn lowered her hand, not saying a word. Cullen could not look at her. “We’ll seal this place off and complete our investigation here,” Evelyn said quietly. “I want you back at the Trevelyan estate. That’s an order, Commander Cullen.”

 

+++

 

Cullen was numb. He could barely remember how he got to the house. He vaguely had the impression that someone was escorting him. He didn’t know, nor did he care. In the quiet of Evelyn’s room, he shed his armour, letting the pieces fall to the ground around him. He pulled off his leather jerkin, dropping it in a pile on the carpet.

 

He saw his reflection in Evelyn’s mirror. His chin was covered in stubble, his body streaked with red welts, some slashes from the swirling blood, others rising like tendrils from where Keili had touched him with red lyrium.

 

He felt filthy. He went to the bath and ran the water, getting into the tub before it was even filled. He grabbed the soft sponge and started to clean himself. He could feel her every touch. He scrubbed harder, the welts opening. He rubbed the sponge on his thumbs, there was blood under his nails. He grit his teeth as he tried to get it out. He had never hurt a person like that before. Death came quickly -a strike to the heart, the neck - never had he brought so much pain to a person. And the person was broken, unwell, but he had to do it. -

The blood wasn’t coming out. The water he was in was red and brown with blood and filth. He threw the sponge across the room with a vicious snarl and thumped the side of the tub with his fists. He could feel her kiss on his lips and hear her song, her moans, her scream as he blinded her. Gripping the sides of the tub, he screamed. His scream rose on wings of regret and self-loathing, echoing in the bathroom.

 

He blinked back the tears - hot like her blood on his hand. He hugged his knees and wept like a broken child.

 

He didn’t know how long he was in the tub, but when Evelyn came, the storm of weeping had passed. The tub was full to the brim and overflowing onto the bathroom floor. Cullen stared into the water unseeingly. His thoughts full of darkness. A hand turned the faucet, ceasing the water's flow. He glanced up at her as she climbed into the tub, fully clothed. Her robes floated around her as she sat down opposite him, her blue eyes full of worry.

 

Cullen said nothing.

 

Almost hesitantly, her hand reached out to his head, her fingers running through his hair. He reached out to her desperately as she sank into his embrace, seeming almost relieved. He held her, blinking back tears as the sobs rose again. She said nothing, just holding him. No words were adequate for Cullen, only the reminder that he was not alone. Not this time.

 

“Evelyn, forgive me,” he croaked through the sobs. “Forgive me. I’ve done something horrible.”

 

Evelyn’s hold on him tightened. “What have you done?” she whispered against him.

 

“She wanted love, Evelyn,” he wept. “She wanted love and I gave it to her just so I could kill her. I gouged her eyes out. Maker, I’m a monster…”

 

“You saved a lot of people,” Evelyn whispered. “If she could cast, we would be dead. What happened was monsterous, but you are not a monster.”

 

“That does not change what I’ve done!”

 

“But what was done does not change who you are,” Evelyn breathed. She looked at him, her eyes wet with tears. “Cullen Stanton Rutherford. You are the gentlest man I know, the most loyal, steadfast and true.” She touched his face with the back of her fingers. “My knight and husband of gentle heart - who would weep for all the broken, even the ones who hurt him. The Cullen of old would not have shed a tear, yet here you are.”

 

His heart was in his eyes as she looked at him.

 

Tears ran down her cheek. “I love you,” she breathed. “Nothing in this world or the next will change that.” His hand sought hers. With their foreheads touching, their tears mixing with the bathwater, they clung to each other tightly as if they meant to hold on for eternity.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The tale will soon wind to a close. Let me know how you think it's going to end! Or if you hated/loved it, that also works.


	14. Fireflies - End

They were seated in Ehren’s office in the palace. Already there were piles of papers on his desk, Ehren looked at the work mournfully as  a servant brought Evelyn and Cullen cups of tea. Another servant entered quietly to set down another folio of reports. Ehren groaned.

 

“Now, now,” Evelyn said mildly, stirring her tea. “The head of the Trevelyan family and interim Teyrn should not mourn so when work is placed in his capable hands.”

 

“This isn’t my idea, Evelyn,” Ehren sighed, but smiled slightly. “It’s your fault. Your illustrious efforts make everyone in association with you look good. People keep giving me things to do. I wish they didn’t.”

 

“You’ll get used to it,” Cullen replied, idly reading a parchment from the top of the pile. “Land tithes and taxes,” Cullen shook his head. “I’ll stick to worrying about supply lines and troop movement. Money makes my head ache. Speaking of which, we should talk about establishing a presence here-”

 

“Cullen,” Evelyn pat his hand. “No, small Inquisition, remember? We’re not supposed to take over cities and keeps anymore. Unless Divine Victoria tells us to.”

 

“Oh. Right. I forgot.”

 

Ehren laughed. “You’re welcome to, Commander. Ostwick could use an honest ruler for once.”

 

“They have you,” Cullen smiled and sipped his tea.

 

“I think there’s a fundamental part of that sentence that does not apply to me,” Ehren chuckled. He picked up a red folio and sighed as he opened it. “Now, let’s get to the meat of the meeting,” he said, running his fingers over his goatee. “I’ve read your report on the Teyrn’s interrogation. The city can confirm that Keili was, indeed, his sister. She was sent to Ferelden in secret before he was even born - political fallout and all that, can’t have a mage in a noble family in Ostwick,” he grinned at Evelyn.

 

“I think you’ve spent too much time with Eduard, brother,” Evelyn said mildly. “You’re starting to sound alike.”

 

“Andraste preserve me! Moving on, Arrington tells us that Albrecht revealed Keili’s plight to him, though with Albrecht and Keili dead, we cannot confirm that.” Ehren looked at Evelyn with slight concern. “She is dead, isn’t she?”

 

“She was crumbling to a charcoal husk the last we saw her,” Evelyn shrugged. She moved on quickly. “Did you read the Commander’s recommendations on the precautions to take with the red lyrium in Albrecht’s mansion?”

 

Albrecht nodded. “They are being destroyed as we speak. The hosts who are… still alive are being given merciful deaths. Did Imshael really teach Albrecht how to grow lyrium in people?”

 

“When we were fighting Corypheus, Imshael was instrumental in his red lyrium mining operation. That demon knows what it’s doing, and knows of the potency of red lyrium enough to augment a blood mage’s power. He also was among the first demons to reveal blood magic to people. Testimony from the Commander and from Jorick confirm that Keili was using ancient magics. Every tongue could be used to summon demons or even sustain the blood mage when greviously injured at the cost of the tongue’s owner’s life. She augmented her abilities with red lyrium and other dark rituals - this enabled her to summon the company of demons she attacked the tears with, and explained why she kept all those tongues.”

 

Ehren sighed, looking disturbed. “This has been going on for a while then,” he said. “The Cult of the Stilled Tongue has periodically risen in Ostwick over the past ten years. It could be that that’s how Keili has been here.”

 

“It would fit,” Evelyn said. “Arrington is now eighteen. The Blight was thirteen years ago. Templar Records indicate that Keili was meant to go to Aeonar two years after the Blight. That would have made Arrington seven. Albrecht was seventeen at the time, and already ambitious, from what I remember. It would make sense that he could ensnare the child Arrington.” She shook her head. “What I wish I knew was if Keili was indeed already possessed at the time of her transfer or not. Greigor was scant with his records, and Imshael did fight me at Suledin keep. Did he retreat here or was he reformed in the Fade and possessed her after that?”

 

“I’ll not even pretend to understand the workings of demons,” Ehren shuddered. “Either way, the City is willing to send Arrington to Skyhold for your judgement. I think they just don’t want to kill him themselves.”

 

“I think if there’s one thing you can count on,” Cullen said, “It’s Evelyn’s desire to give people a chance to redeem themselves. The City should not be so presumptuous to think that Arrington will die. He was as much a pawn in this as Keili.”

 

Evelyn sighed. “True.” Evelyn touched Cullen’s arm. “Now if Albrecht were alive, I’d gladly give him to you, my heart,” she smiled. “You’re quite a creative man. I would love to see the ingenious ways you’d think of to dispatch him. I’ll requisite as many red hot pokers as you’d like, love.”

 

Cullen chuckled. “Horses, Eve. Drawn and quartered was my original plan, if you’ll recall.”

 

Ehren shook his head. “Maker, you both sound made for each other,” he said, shutting the red folio. “I should tell you that the Committee of the City Guard has been dissolved. The guard will now come under the purview of the Teyrn with a professional Captain. I’m a little irked that your Captain Rylen refuses to even speak to my recruiting officer. But no matter, we’re still working on him.”

 

“Ehren!” Evelyn exclaimed. “First you try to recruit my husband, and now this? Stop taking my staff!”

 

“It is for the good of the City, Eve,” Ehren said. He frowned. “Maybe if I give him a title. Marquis, perhaps?”

 

Cullen chuckled. “It wouldn’t work.”

 

“I’m not giving up, Commander. Let us move on. Now, I’m supposed to shower gifts upon you for your good work and red lyrium containment efforts. The Inquisition is extremely efficient in removing that blasted red lyrium from Albrecht’s estate. Not to mention stopping a cult of blood mages and freeing children from being thralls, exposing a corrupted Teyrn, etcetera.” He glanced at a paper. “The list goes on, do I have to name it all? Can I just give you something and we can go back to pretending that I’m not doing this job?”

 

Evelyn chuckled. “You don’t have to, Ehren,” she said. “It’s our duty to do what we did.”

 

“Nevertheless,” Ehren said, leaning back and steepling his fingers on the arms of his chair. “I think a belated wedding present is in order, if you will not accept the keys to the city or whatever - I hear you have Kirkwall’s already. Instead, I’ve got a half dozen of our Trevelyan Vanners  that I would like to gift to you both.”

 

“Truly?” Cullen’s eyes lit up.

 

“The stallion is the pride of our stable,” Ehren smiled. “He was trained as a war horse. The rest are mares. You can breed them - just, don’t sell them, please, we need to maintain the price and rarity of the breed.”

 

Evelyn sighed with a smile at Cullen. “I’m sure we’ll both enjoy the gift,” she beamed at Ehren. “The stallion is going to be the prettiest war horse on the battlefield.”

 

Ehren smiled at her warmly. “I hope it will remind you of home,” he said. “I have a feeling you’ll not be coming back to Ostwick for a long time, after this fiasco. Perhaps we could come visit you?”

 

“We would like that,” Evelyn laughed.

 

There was another knock on the door as a servant entered with letters. “Maker’s breath,” Ehren sighed. “I should get back to this, you both. I shall see you at the Ball tonight?”

 

Evelyn nodded and stood up to leave. “Work hard, Interim Teyrn Trevelyan,” Cullen chuckled.

 

Ehren groaned.

 

Evelyn slipped her arm in Cullen’s as they walked. Cullen looked at the view of the city from the open arched windows of the palace. This had truly been the worst holiday ever, with all the things that happened. He was looking forward to the peace of Skyhold. Work would be restful. He felt eyes on him. Evelyn was looking up at him, concern in her eyes. She looked slightly guilty at being caught. “I’m fine,” he assured her, patting her arm. “I was just looking out.”

 

“I know,” she said quickly. “I was just wondering what you were thinking.”

 

“That work would be a welcomed relief from the holiday,” he replied.

 

Evelyn laughed warmly. “I agree,” she said. “I could do with the break. We’ll leave tomorrow after the ball. Leliana’s already gone back before us, I’m sure we’ll have lots of work to catch up on.” She looked up at him archly. “At least your desk at Skyhold won’t break.”

 

He smirked at her and kissed her neck. Every kiss brought thoughts of Keili to mind, but Evelyn was a comforting peace. He was recovering, he knew. The nightmares came and went, they did not have as much hold on him as they did before, they faded when he awoke to see Evelyn’s face. She giggled at the kiss. He pleased to see her blushing when he pulled away. He saw some servants looking at them and cleared his throat, unable to help but blush himself. They headed on their way.

 

++++

 

Cullen had never seen Evelyn dressed so elegantly before. In a gown of silver and blue, with silk flowing from under her bust, she looked every inch the noblewoman that she was. Cullen braided her hair up as she sat humming at her dresser. It was a quiet moment he treasured. He thought of her in the cave of limestone on their way to the Warrens, how she had smiled at the sight of the glittering stalactites. She was so entranced by the beauty that she had forgotten that she was terrified of swimming. He tucked the last braid in place, forming an elegant bun on her head, and kissed her cheek.

 

She looked up at him with a warm smile as he went to put on his sash over his red doublet. She sauntered over him, a vision in silk. She helped to hold his sash in place as he pinned the Inquisition brooch on. “We should hurry, Ehren will be sending the carriage around soon,” she said.

 

“In a minute,” he said, running his hands through his hair. He checked his hair in her mirror, smoothing it down. He saw her watching him with concern in her eyes. “Something wrong?” he asked her, looking at her through the glass.

 

She blinked and shook her head, dislodging a lock of hair. “Nothing love,” she grinned. “I was just admiring the view from back here.”

 

He chuckled and turned to give her his arm. She slipped hers into the crook of his arm. She was worried about him. Still. He hated that he caused her such constant concern. He would have to… show her that he was fine tonight.

 

They rode with Ehren and Eduard in the carriage to the the ball. Marcelline had already gone ahead since it was her party. “It’s nice to see you’ve dressed well, Eduard,” Ehren said, eyeing his brother who was donned in a lavish velvet doublet of darkest green. He had his half cape on once more, slung over a shoulder and under his opposite armpit.

 

“I always dress well, brother,” Eduard said smugly. “Especially when for once, I am mother’s guest of honour.”

 

“We’re all mother’s guests of honour,” Evelyn pointed out as she sat beside Cullen, holding his hand in hers.

 

“I know, but this time it’s official,” Eduard said. “She’s not saying that just because we’re her children, but because we earned it. We. Saved. Ostwick. Do you know how amazing that feels?”

 

Cullen chuckled. “It feels good,” he said, catching Evelyn’s smile.

 

They arrived at a grand tent set in a meadow by a shallow river. Reeds dominated the embankment and stretched out into the shallow waters. There were walkways built out into the river, allowing one to stroll amidst the reeds. True enough, there were fireflies. Cullen had never seen so many before. The tent was pitched with black cloth to keep the lights in so the fireflies and their glow could be seen. “Could we just skip the party and see the fireflies?” Cullen asked as he helped Evelyn from the carriage.

 

“My Lady Inquisitor,” said the doorman as he bowed respectfully.

 

Evelyn looked apologetically at him. “Sorry, first chance to slip away, we will,” she promised. Cullen took her arm as they were led in after Ehren. They were introduced, they were praised, toasts were raised in their honour - each speech longer than the last. Cullen drank too much sherry than was good for him. Evelyn seemed to be taking it slow, nursing a single glass.

 

The whole ball turned into a blur in Cullen’s mind. When he wasn’t bored, he wasn fencing off strange proposals from people who all wanted something from him or Evelyn or both. Often, it was requests to settle problems among the nobles. Evelyn directed them all to Ehren. Cullen had the feeling that Ehren wasn’t going to be impressed. Evelyn also had a lot of cousins. He made it a point never to leave her side.

 

They drifted in the party, talking and chatting, until they came to the imposing presence of Ser Laurent, surrounded by men vying for her attention. Laurent stood half a head taller than most of the men around her. In deference to the fact that it was a ball, she wasn’t wearing plate. Instead, she donned a Templar tabard over mail and a breastplate. She had traded in her greatsword for a longsword at her waist. The woman was as striking as ever but as she saw Evelyn approach, she ignored all the men and moved to join them.

 

“Have you come to rescue me?” she asked them both.

 

“Balls are always boring,” Cullen smiled.

 

“I agree,” Laurent smirked at him. “I never know what to do with them.”

 

“T-that’s not what I-” Cullen blushed.

 

Evelyn laughed. “Sofia! Leave him alone!” she said, hugging Cullen’s arm.

 

Laurent laughed. “I’m pleased to see you well,” she said to Cullen. “I feared for you greatly when you were taken. What you did was noble. I only wish I could have been more help.”

 

“You did fatally wound her,” Cullen said. “You were a great friend when we were in need. I don’t know what would have happened if you weren’t there.”

 

“Evelyn would have lost her heart,” Laurent said plainly. “And the world would suffer for it.”

 

“You make me sound dreadful,” Evelyn sighed.

 

“I think I know you, Evelyn,” Laurent smiled, taking her hand and turning it over. “I’m glad that your hand is fixed as well. Your casting is intact - as is the rest of you. I hope there will be no complications.”

 

“It is,” Evelyn said, slightly breathless as Laurent held her hand. “Jorick assures me that there won’t be. It should proceed according to term.”

 

“Term?” Cullen blinked. “Your healing?”

 

Laurent chuckled at him mysteriously. “But I must take my leave and return to the Tears. I came just to say goodbye to you both,” she said and looked at Cullen. “Treasure her, Commander. She is precious.”

 

“You know I will, Ser Laurent,” Cullen assured her.

 

Then Laurent looked at Evelyn. “And I am pleased to have lost you to a man such as him, Evelyn Trevelyan. Truly the better man won.” With gentlemanly grace, Laurent bowed with a hand behind her back and kissed Evelyn’s fingers, her bunned blonde hair glittering in the chandelier’s light.

 

Some very distinct images came to Cullen’s mind, most of which was Evelyn’s fault. He didn’t have much of an imagination, but the pictures painted by Evelyn about her and Laurent came back with startling clarity.

 

“My lady, Commander,” Laurent said. “I hope we meet again in happier times.”

 

“Mm,” Evelyn murmured, slightly breathless. Laurent stood and smiled at them both. Then, she turned to make her way out of the tent. Her suitors swarmed to follow her despite the fact that she didn’t cast them a second glance.

 

Evelyn and Cullen glanced at each other. “You’re blushing,” Cullen pointed out, equal parts jealous and aroused.

 

“So are you,” Evelyn retorted.

 

They stared at one another and both burst into laughter.

 

It was inevitable that Marcelline came up to him. “You’ve yet to ask me for a dance, Cullen,” she smiled at him, looking tastefully magnificent in a gown of black and gold.

 

Cullen panicked slightly. “Forgive me, an oversight I’ll gladly rectify now,” he replied. “Though, I’m not that good at dancing, my- Marcelline. Templars don’t attend balls.”

 

“But Commanders do,” Marcelline said, taking his arm. Evelyn gave him a thumbs up as he headed to the dancefloor with his mother-in-law. Cullen was trying not to sweat. Dancing. In front of people. What harm could there be? Hopefully, he wouldn’t make a complete fool of himself. He took Marcelline’s hand in his, the other extremely politely on her hip. They began to step in time with the music. Thank the Maker she didn’t want any exciting dances. Evelyn could pull it off, but he sure couldn’t.

 

“We haven’t had much time to speak, Marcelline,” he said conversationally as they danced.

 

“We have been busy, you especially,” she replied, her deep voice lilting with her slight Orlesian accent. “With everything that has happened, I hope you have recovered and perhaps even enjoyed Ostwick. We do not see such troubles often in our City.”

 

Cullen wondered if Marcelline lived on the moon. “Indeed,” he said out loud. “I am on the road to recovery, thanks to Evelyn.”

 

“You’ve made my daughter very happy,” Marcelling smiled at him. “Though she has put herself in danger for you time and again, she cannot live without you. It is a blessing.” They twirled in the slow movements of the dance. “Take some advice from an old woman who has made many mistakes, Cullen - not least of which being how I neglected my beloved daughter. Love her and your family. And don’t let her forget that she loves you too.” Her blue eyes met Cullen’s. “You both may be taken away from each other at any moment - you’ve gone through it here in Ostwick. Don’t let go.” She paused. “Even when Evelyn’s being difficult.”

 

Cullen nodded gravely. “Those are the times I hold onto her tightly,” he said quietly. “It’s hard for her to talk when- er- when her lip-” He gave up under Marcelline’s amused smile. “I’ll remember what you said, Marcelline. I hope in the future you and I will be able to get to know eachother better.”

 

“Of course,” she said. They parted as the music ended. Cullen bowed as Marcelline curtseyed with exquisite grace. “Now, let me know when you hear the good news.”

 

“News?” he asked, perplexed.

 

Marcelline smiled in amusement at him and swept off the dance floor. Why was everyone being mysterious today? Cullen blinked and saw Amelie, Evelyn’s overly-friendly cousin, approaching him, shouldering her way through the crowd. He tried not to turn too rudely and headed back to Evelyn.

 

“You’re in such a hurry, Commander,” she said, when he rejoined her. “Did you enjoy your dance with Mother?”

 

“Of course, it was probably the most words she’s said to me at one go,” he replied.

 

“Good. I’m going to get those little sausage things on sticks - wait for me?”

 

“I’ll come with you,” he said.

 

“Cull, you don’t have to,” she chuckled.

 

“Amelie has a strangely determined look,” he glanced at Amelie, who was staring at him from across the dancefloor.

 

Evelyn rolled her eyes. “Silly girl,” she said. She looked around and licked her lips.

 

“You could get a sherry if you’re thirsty,” he suggested. “It’s rather nice.”

 

“No, I’m fine, no more sherry,” she said. Cullen caught the tenseness in her voice. She sighed. “Suddenly I’m feeling a little stifled in here. Shall we go for a walk among the fireflies?”

 

“Of course, Inquisitor,” he purred quietly. He cleared his throat as he leaned in to whisper to her. “I’ve been waiting to get away with you all evening.”

 

They stepped out of the tent, heading to the reeds in the river. There was no moon and the world before them was a dark swathe under a deep purple sky. With Evelyn’s arm in his, they stepped into the boardwalk that stretched out into the reeds. Cullen’s eyes took a while to adjust. He looked up at the stars, glittering like diamonds on the neck of night. The farther away they walked from the tent, the music became muted and distant. Eventually, they found themselves in the middle of the river’s sea of reeds, in a bubble of quiet. Evelyn hugged his arm as they walked. she smelled very nice, he noted. There was rosewater or something in her hair.

 

They stopped at the end of the walk. As she leaned back against the railing of the board walk, he embraced her. He breathed in the smell of her hair deeply.

 

“If you were any less attractive, that would be creepy,” she chuckled against his chest. Her hands found his bottom and squeezed him through his breeches.

 

“I could say the same for you,” he laughed. Their voices were hushed in the quiet. To speak loudly would be somehow disrespectful. “It seems like we’re made for each other.”

 

Her eyes warmed as she looked at him. “We are,” she murmured and leaned up to kiss him. As their lips locked, he closed his eyes. It was a moment later that he opened it at the sight of soft green light. “Eve,” he whispered, seeing the firefly in her hair.

 

She blinked and squealed suddenly. He caught the bug in his cupped hands before it was swatted away.

 

“Maker’s breath!” Eve breathed, tucking her hair behind her ear. “That startled me.”

 

Cullen smiled and went to her, holding the little firefly between them. He opened his cupped hands, his skin illuminated by the soft, faint glow. The little bug began to explore his palm as Evelyn gazed at it. “Open your hands,” he murmured.

 

She looked up at him playfully and held out her hands. Gently, he let the bug crawl onto her palm. She gazed at the bug, her face faintly lit by the firefly’s light. Then the little creature flew off into the air. She sighed and watched it go. Now that his eyes were accustomed to the dark, he could see swirls of light all around him. Thousands of fireflies hovered in the air, gently flying among the reeds. It was as if the spirits of the Fade had come to play. He hugged her from behind. “It’s beautiful,” he murmured.

 

“It is,” her voice was wistful. “I love you, you know that, right?”

 

“I love you, too.”

 

She paused for a moment. “Cullen, do you like the name Branwen?” she asked suddenly.

 

“Branwen? I think it’s fine,” he replied.

 

“It sounds nice and Ferelden,” she said. “Or Aife. Or Tristen or Sam for a boy?”

 

“Dog is a serviceable name, Evelyn,” he said against her hair. He felt her slump with a sigh in his arms.

 

“Maker,” she turned in his arms to look right at him. “Cullen…” She bit her lip. “Cullen, I’m expecting!”

 

“Expecting what?” There had been quite a lot of sherry.

 

Her eyebrow twitched as she watched him carefully.

 

It took a moment for the ball to drop. Cullen gaped at her. “Y-you’re expecting- I mean, it’s a - you’re-” he fumbled and his voice faded away. He had so many words suddenly none would come. She looked nervously at him. “Y-you’re having a baby?” he squeaked.

 

“Um, yes?”

 

“Right now?”

 

She had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. “No, not right now. In about eight months, I think.”

 

“But- how?”

 

Evelyn tittered softly. “The usual, way, I hope?” There was nervousness at the edge of her smile. “We haven’t really been, um, taking preventative measures. I’m a few weeks late. The midwife confirmed it when you were asleep.”

 

He stared at her.

 

“Are you alright?” she asked worriedly.

 

Cullen moved to lean his hands on the railing of the boardwalk, his head suddenly spinning as he tried to wrap his mind around the news. He had thought about it but never dreamed… He was going to be a father. A little person that he and Evelyn had created! He was vaguely aware that someone was calling him. He turned then and wrapped his arm around her, laughing with glee. “Evie!” he grinned. “This is incredible!”

 

“Thank the Maker!” Evelyn winced in his arms. “I thought you were losing your mind-”

 

“Sorry!” he said, letting her go as he held her shoulders. “I shouldn’t - not so rough- Did I hurt the- our baby?”

 

Evelyn laughed and kissed him, her hand running through his hair. He gently held her against him. “It’s fine,” she said. She looked up at him with her heart in her eyes as the fireflies swirled around them, aroused by their laughter. “I’m going to be stuck in Skyhold, aren’t I?”

 

“When pregnant? Of course!” he insisted, his hands trailing to her abdomen. He rubbed her there, her hands resting on his as he his fingers gently caressed her through the silk. She did feel round. “I am not letting you out the gate.”

 

She chuckled at his quiet amazement, their faces illuminated by the glowing lights as their foreheads touched. “You know,” she said softly. “For the first time, when you ask me to stay behind, I don’t mind at all.” She touched his face, drawing him into the kiss.

 

“Oh. Good.” Their kiss lasted a long time with fireflies dancing about them under the starlit purple sky.

 

As the fireflies rose to the sky in their dance of love, a voice was heard, “How many people knew about this already?”

 

“Everyone but you, Cullen.”

 

“Maker’s breath!”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Stilled Tongues of Ostwick is finally over! Maker be praised! Any parting words of wisdom for me? Areas of improvement? Maybe even ideas for a new story? Drop me a comment!


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